It's My Problem
by Namikaze Artemis
Summary: In which Peter is Tony's illegitimate child, and he's prepared to do anything to keep that a secret. Although, that doesn't stop him from trying to get Tony's approval. He is Peter's idol, after all.
1. We've Both Made Mistakes, Haven't We?

**I'm going under the assumption that The Amazing Spider-Man was set in 2012, and that Peter was 15 then.**

* * *

Chapter 1: We've Both Made Mistakes, Haven't We?

* * *

_September 16th, 2000_.

One Peter Parker was sleeping soundly in his crib. Being barely four, he still preferred to sleep in a crib, but Richard and Mary had discussed getting a small bed for him soon.

Of course, Richard wouldn't be there to tuck Peter into his new bed. Or to comfort him, after a nightmare, or to even celebrate the countless birthdays that Peter would have.

Richard deserved nothing less.

He gazed around Peter's room. It was bare, with nothing but the crib, a small closet, and a little desk and chair covered in papers. Peter had only moved into it a few weeks back, and he had always been a neat child. No crayon marks covered the walls, and no toys decorated the floor. His crayons were neatly packed away into their box, and his toys were shut into the closet.

Richard crouched next to Peter's crib and looked down to his face. He brushed aside a stray piece of hair on Peter's face, a tight smile on his face.

"I haven't been the best father, have I?" Richard whispered, resting his hand on Peter's forehead. "I've made mistakes."

He stilled as Peter started to make a few noises in his sleep. Peter quieted down after a few short moments, however, leaving him free to continue his monologue.

"But I'm not the only one who made mistakes. Your mother did as well," Richard murmured. "But it's shameful that it took her mistake to make me realize mine."

Richard stood up, gently taking his hand off Peter's forehead.

"You may not be my son, but I thought you were, all of these years. And that- that, more than anything else, is why I have to leave, no matter how much I want to stay. I have something I need to do. I thought Mary and I would have to leave together, but I can do it without her."

He slowly closed the door to Peter's bedroom, casting one final glance to Peter.

"I have no other choice. I can't trust her, not anymore."

Peter would remember this night. He wouldn't remember much, but what he did remember would taunt him.

After all, he would remember Richard coming to talk to Peter on the day he died, but not what he said.

* * *

_November 27th, 2000_

"Mary? What's this?"

The sound of Peter's childish laughter echoing into May's kitchen marked a harsh contrast with Mary's solemn expression. The two of them were sitting across from each other at the table. May glanced down at the letter that Mary had just put into her hand.

"If you want to tell me something, you can just tell me-"

"-No." Mary shook her head. "This is for Peter. "

"Peter? My dear, I'm afraid you're just making me more confused."

Mary hesitated, before leaning in. "This is for Peter when he turns fifteen. I want to hope that I'll be there for him then… but I'm not that optimistic. Richard… he was involved in some shady things. I don't think that plane crash was an accident. There are some things that Peter needs to know, things that he's not ready for right now. I can't take those secrets to my grave, whenever that may be."

"Mary, you're being ridiculous," May exclaimed. "Why would someone crash an entire plane full of people just to kill Richard? His death… his death was hard for everyone- is still hard for everyone- and I'm not telling you to get over it. I haven't, Ben hasn't, and I'm sure we won't for a while yet. But please, Mary, please, get yourself together. For Peter."

"I won't ask you to believe me." Mary sighed, running a hand through her hair. "But… just in case, keep this letter for Peter. Please. You can do that for me, right?"

May let out a gusty sigh before accepting the letter. She quickly clenched Mary's hands into hers.

"Please, Mary. Drop these ridiculous conspiracy theories," May said softly. "Peter needs you."

Mary gave May a small, clenched smile.

"Believe me, May, if I could, I would."

"Mommy!"

Peter dashed into the kitchen, jumping into his mother's lap. He gave Mary a big grin.

"Guess what, guess what?" Peter exclaimed.

"What?" Mary smiled back at her child.

"Uncle Ben showed me 'ow to climb a tree!" Peter said excitedly. A leaf floated out of his hair.

"I see," Mary said, stifling a laugh. She ran her hand through his hair absent-mindedly.

_How much longer will I be able to stay with him? _

The thought ran through her head, unbidden.

Mary's arms snaked around Peter, grasping him tightly. She buried her head into his shoulder.

"Petey, you know Mommy loves you, right?"

Peter blinked, confused at his mother's sudden mood swing.

"Yeah… I love you too!"

"That's great, Petey. That's wonderful." Mary said, clenching to Peter even tighter.

"Mommy… are you awright?" Peter asked, childish innocence etched onto his face.

"Yes, Mommy's fine." Mary let Peter jump out of her lap. "Now, why don't you go play with Uncle Ben some more?"

"Okay!" Peter said cheerfully, racing out of the kitchen.

May gave Mary a worried look.

"Mary, why don't you and Peter stay here for dinner today? You could do with a break." May suggested. She walked over to the fridge and scanned the contents. She frowned. "Oh dear, it looks like we're all out of eggs… and orange juice. Will Peter be happy with water?"

"No, it's fine." Mary smiled. "I'll just go and buy some orange juice and eggs from a store. It'll take twenty minutes, at most. Peter does love his orange juice."

"If you're sure you're up for it." May said doubtfully.

"May, I've been going to work for weeks and nothing's happened. I'll be fine."

Grabbing her coat, Mary strode out of the room.

That would be the last time May saw Mary alive. On the way to the store, Mary would get hit by a car. The culprit would never get caught, and there would be no witnesses.

At the funeral, May would laugh humorlessly at the irony of it all, all while clenching Mary's letter.

* * *

_August 15th, 2012_

Peter's fifteenth birthday.

It was a small affair with his uncle and aunt, some cake, a couple presents… and one yellow-edged letter that was from his long dead mother.


	2. Because The Universe Will Screw Me Over

**Spidey makes his appearance!**

**Also, I tend to update earlier on my AO3 account ( users/ Namikaze_Artemis)**

* * *

Chapter 2: Because The Universe Will Screw Me Over Otherwise

* * *

Peter ran his hand over the slightly yellowed paper.

_It's from your mother. _Aunt May had said. _ She gave it to me, the day she died. She had said to give it to you, when you turned fifteen, if she wasn't there for you. I still don't know how she knew what would happen to her, and I probably never will. _

"This is… from my mom," Peter whispered. Taking a deep breath, he carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Peter,_

_If you're reading this, it means I'm dead._

_I'm sorry, Peter, I shouldn't make light of my death. But I've always wanted to say that, and perhaps a joke or two could help lessen the blow._

_The reason I wrote this letter is because there are some things about yourself that you don't know yet, that you need to know._

_Before I tell you these things, you must remember not to tell anyone these things. Even if, by some miracle, someone actually believes you, you'll run into nothing but trouble._

_Do you understand?_

_I'm afraid I have no other choice than to trust your fifteen-year old self, and hope that you do the right thing with this information._

_I have two things I must confess to you._

_The first is this: Richard Parker is not your father._

_As you may know, I worked as a biologist. Not to toot my own horn, but I was quite accomplished in my field, though you wouldn't find my name in any textbooks._

_One day at my workplace, I somehow ended up with an invitation to one of Tony Stark's infamous parties. _

_(Now that I think about it, my boss probably threw the names of everybody in my workplace into a hat and randomly picked two. He was that sort of person.)_

_Your father and I… we weren't exactly on the best of terms back then. And well, _Tony Stark. _Who wouldn't want to sleep with-_

That was the moment Peter slammed the letter face-down on the table.

He didn't want to know this. He wasn't stupid. He could guess what was coming next.

And he _didn't want to know._

* * *

Richard Parker was his father.

When he found his _father's _bag in the basement, underneath a pile of junk from his parent's house, he didn't hesitate to search for one Curt Connors. Running into Gwen Stacy was just a nice extra.

And, well, the superpowers were a major surprise, but he could deal. There was no way in hell he was becoming a superhero though. That could be left to the real heroes.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Peter walked into a corner store. He couldn't deal with all this crap right now. Grabbing a bottle of milk, he slammed it on the counter, along with a bit of change.

When the cashier refused to let him get the milk because he was a few pennies short, he reached the end of his patience. Peter couldn't care less if a thief stole from the store.

He was no hero.

He was in no related to a hero.

And it _wasn't his problem._

A few moments later, kneeling at his dying uncle's side, Peter discovered something. It was his problem. Everything was his problem. Because the universe would screw him over otherwise.

(he also discovered the true meaning of self-loathing.)

* * *

Peter wasn't a superhero.

The suit was just to keep his identity a secret and to hopefully keep the police off his tail. The fancy web-shooters were just a tool.

The only reason he was going around doing the vigilante business was to avenge Uncle Ben's death.

(Avenge. Ha)

Leaning back against the seat of the car, he patiently waited for the car thief to finish breaking into the car.

The car thief was dressed as a _car thief_. Really not the smartest thing to do. Obviously, he wasn't dealing with an Einstein here, in both general intelligence and paying attention to his surroundings.

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"You know, if you're gonna steal cars, don't dress like a car thief, man."

The quips came easily, almost too easily. He was in the middle of a fight that could possibly end up with him severely injured, and he was joking.

But hey. If a few jokes could lighten the mood, then he would joke all the way. That's what his mother had said, wasn't it?

A bit more snarking, and the thief was safely stuck to the wall. Dashing up to him, Peter checked the thief's wrist. Noting that it was clean, he stepped back, leaving the car thief strapped on the wall.

He'd like to think the spandex had made the police officers a little less likely to arrest him, but he doubted it. So many 'superheroes' had popped up after the whole Avengers fiasco that they were probably used to dealing with wanna-be heroes. It was probably a shock for them to discover that he had superpowers, of a sort.

Not that he was a superhero, of course.

* * *

"I was wrong."

No. This couldn't be happening. Someone he knew, someone he was getting close to, couldn't be dying again.

Holding George Stacy in his arms on the roof of OsCorp, he bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. If only he were a bit faster, a bit stronger.

(an actual hero)

"The city does need you. But you are going to make enemies. It will be dangerous. You have-"

Captain Stacy cut himself off to cough, great hacking coughs that spurt out blood on his uniform.

"You have to leave Gwen out of it. Promise me."

Peter nodded, mutely.

"Go," Stacy said, mustering up a weak smile. "You've got a city to save."

Resting Stacy on the ground, he turned towards the top of the tower. He clenched the antidote to the lizard formula in his hand, and started to climb.

(heroes saved people)

(they didn't let them die)

(he wouldn't let anyone else die. Not again. He would become an actual hero. Once and for all)

* * *

"I got the eggs, Aunt May." Peter gave his aunt a weak smile, pulling a carton of eggs out of his backpack.

Aunt May let out a shocked gasp. "Peter! What happened?"

"I, um, got wrapped up in all that craziness downtown," Peter answered, fixing the smile on his face. "I'm fine. I just need some sleep."

Placing the eggs on the kitchen table, he rushed up the stairs and into his room. Ignoring Aunt May's cries, he slammed the door shut and slid down to the ground. He stared at the ceiling, feeling numb.

Peter buried his head in his knees. It was all too much. He needed to distract himself, do something, anything.

Looking up, his eyes landed on one yellow edged letter, thrown under the bed and forgotten.

_Well. It's not like my mood could get any worse. _Peter thought morosely, crawling towards the letter. He leaned against the bed and started reading from where he left off –was it only a few weeks ago?

_-your father and I… we weren't exactly on the best of terms back then. And well, Tony Stark. Who wouldn't want to sleep with Tony Stark?_

_I was ashamed. I never committed such an act again. _

_When I had you, some months later, I had a DNA test done, just in case. The results said that Richard Parker wasn't the father. There's only one other possibility, as you have probably guessed already. _

_Tony Stark is your father. _

_I mentioned this earlier in the letter, but I'll repeat. Do not tell anyone this. No one will even give you the chance to explain yourself. _

_The second thing I have to tell you has to do with Richard. _

_Shortly before he left and died in that plane crash, he confessed to me that he had been doing experiments on you, something to do with spiders. Apparently he'd stopped before you reached three, since apparently he couldn't figure out how to activate the genes he had inserted into you._

_I assure you, I had no part in this atrocity. I loved Richard, and still do, but I love you more. If he hadn't left that night of his own accord, I would've forced him out. _

_In the resulting argument, I ended up admitting that you weren't his child. I'm not sure what he thought of that, but a few seconds after my outburst, he turned white and left the room. _

_Richard left behind his personal reports on the experiments he did. From what I can see, the only way you'll ever have problems with it is if a very specific sort of spider DNA enters your system, something that Richard thankfully never figured out._

_I'm sure that this letter still leaves many questions unanswered. But the answers you want to know will just put you in danger. If you're reading this letter, it means that I was killed for the little information I knew about Richard's work. I'm not going to risk your life by telling you more. _

_I'm sorry for not being there, Peter. _

_There's not much else I can say, is there? _

_Live a good life, Peter. Don't reach for things that are impossible, have fun, and one day- far in the future, I hope! - we'll meet again. _

_Mary Parker_

Peter stared at the paper blankly for a few moments, before a choked, incredulous laugh made its way out of his throat. Covering his eyes with his hand, he held back the tears that threatened to fall.

_Captain Stacy's dead, I need to stay away from Gwen, and not only is my father not my father, apparently he was the sort of person that experiments on his kid. _Peter thought. _This is turning out to be a lovely day, isn't it?_

* * *

Richard Parker was not his father.

Peter was a superhero.

It was funny how so much could change in such a short time. But in reality, Richard Parker was always not his father. The only thing that had changed was his perceptive of him. Besides, it wasn't as if he would ever meet his biological father.

Actually, on second thought, there was a remote possibility he would meet him. Once Peter had become a superhero, the probability of meeting Tony Stark had gone to near zero to a considerably higher number.

But he held no illusions about what sort of person Tony Stark was. Even though he had been Peter's idol for a long while, he knew that Tony Stark was, to put it simply, a dick.

"I'm home!" Peter called out. He opened the door to his house, but froze when he heard the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Shaking his head embarrassedly, he continued his way inside.

_Get yourself together, Peter. Aunt May has friends too. _Peter paused, wincing slightly as he recalled what had happened with Gwen. _ I should drop the 'too'. _

Walking into the kitchen, he stiffened once more at the sight of a middle-aged man in a suit.

"Oh, Peter!" Aunt May smiled at him. "We were just talking about you! This is-"

"SHIELD Agent Coulson," the man cut in. Something that could probably pass for a smile was pasted onto his face. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Parker. I have a proposition for you."

* * *

**The Avengers finally make their appearance in the next chapter! Of course, they won't be talking to Peter just yet… ha ha…. **


	3. Are You Guys Stalkers Or Something?

**I may have forgotten to mention this before, but I do subscribe to the widely known theory that Coulson is alive and Fury is a total liar. I think it's harder to find people who don't subscribe to that theory nowadays…**

**Also, since my teachers have decided to give me a bunch of homework because of the long weekend, I don't know when the next update will be. Hopefully within the next two weeks.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Are You Guys Stalkers Or Something?

* * *

"A proposition?" Peter narrowed his eyes at the so-called Agent Coulson. "What sort of proposition?"

"Oh, Peter, he wants for you to intern at SHIELD as a geneticist! Isn't that exciting?" Aunt May exclaimed brightly. A small frown crossed over her face. "But wait, SHIELD is the organization that deals with superheroes, isn't it? Will it be dangerous?"

"I'm sure Peter will be fine, should he choose to accept the internship," Coulson answered.

For some reason, Peter doubted every word that came out of the agent's mouth.

Peter forced a smile onto his face and hoped it didn't look too strained. "It's great, Aunt May. Mister- uh, Agent Coulson, could we take this into my room?"

"Peter, are you sure that's a good idea?" May frowned, deeper this time.

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Peter said, trying and failing to maintain his smile. "Don't worry, Aunt May, I won't decide anything until I talk it over with you."

"We can discuss further, more exact details of the science he would be doing at SHIELD," Coulson said blandly. "I'm sure it would bore you."

"Well… if Peter's sure he'll be fine," Aunt May said doubtfully.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Aunt May, it's fine," Peter reassured her. "We can go to my room."

Peter motioned for Coulson to follow him up the staircase. Closing the door behind them, Peter sat himself down onto the bed.

"You can sit on my chair," Peter said. He gave Coulson a wry smile. "I'm afraid I'm a little bit of a… loner. Not used to having guests."

"I see." Examining Peter's rather dirty chair, he raised a thin eyebrow. "I'll stand. Thank you, though."

Peter took a soft breath, attempting to calm himself down. He needed to deny any possible connection with Spider-Man, in case the only reason the agent was here was because he vaguely suspected Peter was the vigilante. Admitting to being Spider-Man when they didn't know he was Spider-Man would be the dumbest thing he would ever do.

"Why are you here, Mister… uh, Mister Agent?" Peter asked, trying to inject some genuine curiosity in his tone. "I mean, I'm just a high school student, not even first in his class. That's Gwen, by the way. Gwen Stacy. If you really want someone to work for you, you should ask her."

"Well, both your parents were former SHIELD biologists." Coulson smiled thinly. "But I think we both know the real reason why I'm here."

Peter blinked once, slowly, struggling to keep a neutral expression on his face. The fact that his parents- both of them- had apparently worked for SHIELD was news to him.

"Uh, no, I don't," Peter said, hoping that the confusion in his voice didn't sound too fake. "Is this about Gwen? Because she had no idea what Dr. Connors was doing, I'm telling you-"

"- I see that I'm just going to have to say things outright," Coulson said. "SHIELD knows you're Spider-Man."

Peter forced himself to wait, to give himself enough time realistically to pretend to mull over his words. One second, two, three…

"What?" Peter said incredulously. "You can't be serious. I think you've got the wrong guy."

"I don't think I do," Coulson said mildly.

"Have you looked at me?" Peter gestured at his body. "I'm a fifteen-year old kid who gets consistently beaten up by my high school classmates. If I were Spider-Man, don't you think I could stop them?"

"Could? Certainly." Coulson said. "But would? Well, SHIELD psychoanalysts would disagree with you. Spider-Man doesn't seem like the type of person to beat up his high school bullies, even if they deserved it."

"Trust me, if I could beat them up, I would. Just. Like. That." Peter snapped his fingers.

"Your uncle was killed by a long, blond-haired man with a star tattoo on his left wrist," Coulson pointed out. "That matches the description of all the thieves Spider-Man went after at the very start of his vigilante career, save the star tattoo."

"…Coincidence?" Peter suggested weakly.

Coulson rustled around in his briefcase, retrieving a legal-sized paper and holding it in front of him. Flipping it over, he revealed a photo of Peter changing into his Spider-Man costume.

"We also have a photo of you wearing the Spider-Man costume," Coulson added. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Peter bit his lip, staring at the incriminating photo in front of him.

"Okay, I admit it, Spider-Man's kinda my idol," Peter said, throwing up his hands. "I made a whole Spider-Man costume and everything. I was planning to wear it to, uh, Comic Con!"

"I was under the impression that Iron Man was your idol."

Peter choked, letting out a few hacking coughs. "What the hell? Are you guys stalkers or something?"

"I've been given permission to shoot you to test out those super reflexes of yours if you don't admit to your identity," Coulson said mildly.

"You guys are crazy." Peter scowled, shooting a glare at Coulson. "You wouldn't really do that, would you? Shoot an innocent fifteen-year old?"

Coulson raised a thin eyebrow.

"Right," Peter muttered. "Guess that answers that question."

"Your aunt is waiting for us to finish, is she not? Wouldn't she get worried if this takes too long?"

Peter scowled. It was true that Aunt May might worry, and if she checked on them- if the agent happened to be saying the wrong things at the wrong time…

He didn't want to lie to Aunt May.

(He didn't want to make her worry.)

There was only one thing for Peter to do, and that was to finish this up quickly.

"Look, I'm not Spider-Man." Peter snapped. "I don't know what makes you think that-"

"- aside from the overwhelming evidence?"

"- but I would really appreciate you leaving." Peter said, foraging on regardless.

Coulson let out a small, inaudible sigh. He glanced inside his briefcase with a barely disappointed look, before snapping it shut and turning his gaze towards Peter.

"Let's talk hypotheticals, shall we?" Coulson suggested. "I'm sure your aunt won't worry for a while yet."

Peter reluctantly nodded.

"Hypothetically, let's say that I find Spider-Man," Coulson said. "SHIELD would make this superhero a part of the Avengers, on a trial basis. Spider-Man would, of course, be generously paid for his services."

Paid.

Somehow, he doubted that Uncle Ben would agree that being paid to do good was truly taking responsibility for his powers.

But, the police force was all paid, right? And it wasn't as if they weren't doing any good. They did more good than he did, sometimes.

Captain Stacy was a good cop, a good person, but he still got paid for his services.

(yet another good person that shouldn't have died)

Was it really selfish to get paid for superheroing? Would Uncle Ben really disapprove?

(he didn't know)

"He would be paid for his services for protecting various cities from supervillain threats. Should he choose to continue to deal with petty crime, he would not be paid for that," Coulson added quickly, seemingly noticing Peter's slight distaste at being paid to be a superhero. "And of course, should SHIELD decide that he's not suitable for the Avengers Initiative for various reasons, he would be allowed to return to fighting petty crime full time."

"Hypothetically…" Peter dragged out the word. "If Spider-Man was a high school student, and there was a superhuman threat during school hours, what would happen?"

"Hypothetically, Spider-Man would be contacted, then if necessary, would have to leave school to deal with the threat," Coulson answered.

"Right then."

"Have you reconsidered your previous denial?"

Looking up at Coulson from under the fringe of his hair, he could swear that he spotted a slightly smug look on his face, though he couldn't tell for certain. Peter really hoped he wouldn't have to deal with this guy too much. It would piss him off too much, having to constantly deal with a nearly expressionless man.

Peter suddenly realized that the agent had asked him a question.

"What if I don't want to join your little…" Peter tapped his fingers on his bed, thinking. "Boy band. Hm, yeah, that sounds good. I'm sure your famous little boy band is awesome and all, but really, they're a pretty tight knit group. Don't think they'd take kindly to a fifteen year old budging in all of a sudden. Plus, you know, I'm kinda a loner."

"So you're not accepting?" Coulson asked mildly.

"Are you kidding me?" Peter laughed. "Not accept to be put into the Avengers, even on a trial basis? I'm Spider-Man, not Stupid-Man. Besides, it's not like I don't get beat up on a regular basis, anyways. But…"

Peter frowned slightly, glancing downwards.

"I can't tell my aunt," Peter said rushedly. "She's old- not fragile or anything, but she's had a couple heart problems in the past. What if she's watching Spider-Man fight a villain or something, and he gets hurt- she could have a heart attack… "

"Rest assured, your aunt would remain oblivious to your superhero activities unless you wanted to tell her." Coulson informed Peter. "SHIELD has made up a fake contract for an internship to one of our biology sections."

"You can do that?"

"We can do anything."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be going around recruiting superheroes, would you?" Peter shot back.

"I suggest you spend a night thinking over it, Mr. Parker," Coulson said, carefully ignoring Peter's statement. "I'll return tomorrow."

"Whatever," Peter said flippantly. "At least you're leaving."

"One last thing, Mr. Parker." Coulson said, pausing in the doorway. "I would suggest you train yourself out of your habit of referring to yourself in the third person. It can lead to insanity."

He stepped through the doorway and left, leaving a dumbstruck Peter.

* * *

"Spider-Man?"

"That's what he's calling himself," Tony said, pushing a copy of the Daily Bugle across the table to show Steve. The two of them, along with Bruce, were sitting around a table in the kitchen for breakfast. Well, truthfully, Tony was only there to sip coffee and throw a newspaper at Steve.

"It's spelt with a hyphen," Bruce interjected helpfully.

"I see," Steve murmured, picking up the newspaper. "Is this guy noteworthy? It's commendable that's he's trying to do what he can for the people- petty crime is a major problem- but there's been how many superhero wanna-bes within the last year or so?"

"Apparently he's the real deal. Spider powers, a spandex suit, the whole shebang," Tony said. He leaned back in his chair. "While we were off dealing with the whole supervillain fiasco over in Miami, last night, Spider-Man saved the city from a guy the press has dubbed 'The Lizard'."

Steve frowned, casting more than a cursory glance of the article. "The giant lizard is called… 'The Lizard'?"

Tony laughed, leaning forwards. "They're the press- they're creative when it comes to celebrity scandals but when it comes to naming supervillains, their minds go blank. You should've seen the headlines of some of the articles about me-"

"- I'd rather not," Steve said firmly.

"You're no fun," Tony said in mock exasperation.

"Anyways, Coulson visited me last night-"Bruce started.

Tony raised his hand. "I take offence to that."

"Genetics really isn't your area of expertise, Tony," Bruce sighed.

"Not the point," Tony insisted, crossing his arms.

Steve's mouth twitched up slightly at Tony's antics.

"Right." Bruce's eyes flicked up to stare at the ceiling, almost as if he was silently asking God what he did to deserve this. "As I was saying, Coulson gave me the SHIELD result's on Spider-Man's blood. It was really quite fascinating."

"How did they get a blood sample?" Steve asked.

"They're a super-secret organization filled with 'super-spies'," Tony said in a dismissive tone. "They probably stabbed him with a needle when he wasn't looking."

"I really don't think that's what happened, Tony…" Steve muttered.

Bruce rubbed his forehead. "Coulson said that Fury had classified details about Spider-Man until more was known about him. And he told me to tell you that he in no way condones hacking into SHIELD's mainframe."

Tony nodded sagely. "Note taken. J.A.R.V.I.S.!"

A holographic display popped up in front of him.

"I've taken the liberty to download all SHIELD files on Spider-Man to the Stark mainframe, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said. "In front of you is the main file, including suspected identities, in order of likeliness, and other basic facts."

Tony whistled. "Well, say what you want about SHIELD, they do work fast. Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S."

"My pleasure, sir," he answered.

Steve gave Tony a vaguely disapproving look from across the table.

"What?" Tony brandished his coffee cup, waving it at Steve. "It's just a bit of hacking. Don't tell me you don't want to know more about this guy."

"Shouldn't we tell Clint and Natasha?" Bruce asked.

"They both get twitchy when their sparring sessions get interrupted," Tony pointed out. "I don't think we need two twitchy superspies on our hands."

Steve briefly recalled the first and last time someone- namely, Tony- had decided to interrupt the two. It had been more destructive than the time Clint had prevented Tony from getting his coffee in a bout of idiocy. Considering the fact that the 'Coffee Incident', as it had been dubbed, had resulted in a couple dozen semi-sentient robots traipsing around the tower, beeping out 'Coffee!' in Morse Code, Steve had to agree that interrupting Clint and Natasha's sparring session was a bad idea.

"And Thor's still in New Mexico, chumming it up with his girlfriend, so we can't exactly tell him." Tony started poking through the various files on the screen in front of him. "My A.I. got these files, and I'm going to read them."

After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke up.

"So, um, what does it say?"

Tony looked up from the files and grinned at Steve. "What, America's Golden Boy wants to know what's in the dubiously obtained files after all?"

Steve flushed, averting his eyes from Tony's.

"Right then. Spider-Man." Tony started cheerfully. "Apparently he's got spider DNA in his blood. SHIELD geneticists theorize that this gives him heightened agility and strength, and possibly organic webs. Started superheroing a few weeks ago, only going after long-haired blonds. Police reports say that Spider-Man checked the wrists of the guys he webbed, so he was probably looking for someone in particular, someone with some sort of mark on his wrist. He only really started doing the whole 'protecting the city, getting rid of petty crime' thing after he saved this kid from the Lizard."

"Revenge was his motivation, then?" Bruce suggested. "This long-haired blond killed or hurt someone close to him, so Spider-Man wanted to throw him in jail?"

"Or worse. Vigilantes become vigilantes because they don't believe the system works, right?" Steve said a dark tone to his words.

"Probably." Tony shrugged. "It says that possible identities of this guy are Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Kevin Wu, and another half-dozen college and high-school students. OsCorp's been experimenting with genetically engineered spiders, and they lost one a few weeks back. Apparently, SHIELD suspects that Spider-Man got his powers from that escaped spider, when there was a whole bunch of interns there. From the blood, apparently they got that Spider-Man's not that old."

"A girl's on the list?" Steve said, surprised. Moments later, he quickly amended his statement. "I mean, I know that girls are perfectly capable of fighting in their own right, but… Spider-Man's called Spider-_Man_ for a reason, right?"

Tony laughed. "Don't worry, Cap, I have to agree with you there. Spider-Man wears a skintight spandex suit. I think it's pretty much guaranteed that he's a guy, if you know what I mean. But SHIELD's all about investigating every little corner."

"So, are they planning to interrogate everyone on that list or something?" Steve asked.

"No, they think they have their guy," Tony flicked a finger at the screen, blowing up a picture of one Peter Parker. "This kid, Peter Parker. He snuck into OsCorp with the other interns under a false name. Both his parents used to work for SHIELD at some point in their lives- they were both biologists. And, his uncle was killed recently."

Here, Tony brought up a police sketch of man.

"This guy here killed him. Note the long hair- it's blond, according to the police report," Tony said, waving at the screen. "You can't see it in this sketch, but he's also got a star tattoo- on his left wrist. Also, he's dating Gwen Stacy, which would explain why she decided to help Spider-Man out and make an antidote to the lizard serum."

"The Lizard what?" Bruce asked, genuinely curious.

"There's not much information here." Tony shrugged. "It's what made mild-mannered Curt Connors into a giant green lizard. It says that he used it in an attempt to regrow his amputated arm. And before you start, Bruce, you never decided it was a good idea to turn New York City into New Hulk City."

Bruce laughed awkwardly. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Yes, you were." Tony pointed a finger at him accusingly. "Don't even try to deny it."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to do that either. I know that denials would just fly over your head, unheard and unseen."

"That hurts, Bruce! I thought we were Science Bros!"

"I'm reconsidering that arrangement."

"Bruce! You couldn't possibly leave me stranded among all these idiots!"

"Hey!" Steve objected.

"No offense, Capsicle." Tony grinned.

"Why don't we get back on topic?" Bruce suggested, rubbing his forehead again. "What's SHIELD planning to do about Spidey?"

"Spidey… I'm using that from now on, much easier on the tongue than Spider-Man-"At the sight of Bruce and Steve's twin glares, he quickly got back on topic. "Right, right, SHIELD. They're sending an agent over to the Parker kid's house today, to confirm that he's Spider-Man. If he is- and really, at this point, it seems less likely that he isn't- they're planning to… possibly invite him into the Avengers Initiative? Okay, now I'm really offended that they didn't show us this."

Steve frowned. "If they were planning to put another superhero on our team, they should have informed us."

"Want to go storm SHIELD headquarters?" Tony suggested.

"We're not going to storm SHIELD headquarters," Steve groaned.

"Again." Bruce added.

"Look, it's been a while since I've dropped in," Tony whined. "I haven't found any excuses to lately. They found and destroyed my bugs practically a month ago now."

"Why do you always-"

"- I believe in dishing out what I get. And don't tell me Nick Fury doesn't delight in planting bugs in Stark Tower whenever he can," Tony said, turning off the holographic screen in front of him. "Of course, J.A.R.V.I.S. finds them all and disables them within a few hours, but it's the principle of the thing. And with that note, I've got… stuff… to do in the workshop, so you guys can explain the whole Spidey situation to Clint and Natasha. Okay?"

With those words, Tony jumped out of his seat and raced over to the elevator.

A few moments later, J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice sounded out in the kitchen, where Steve and Bruce were still sitting.

"SHIELD Agent Coulson is on his way up, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Banner. Sir is currently planning to install himself in his workshop for the next few hours, so would I suggest greeting him?"

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead again.

* * *

**Yes, Spidey will finally meet the Avengers next chapter. No, it is not going to be all fluffy goodness from the get-go. Sorry. **


	4. Where'd You Put The Cookies?

**Spidey and the Avengers finally meet! **

**Now, about pairings. Superfamily fics are typically Steve/Tony, but I doubt I'd be able to write it correctly, so I'll just make them total besties. In regards to Pepper/Tony, I'm a huge fan of BFFs!Forever!Pepper/Tony, so they'll just be friends.**

**As for Gwen, she shall be used to make Peter all angsty for the unforeseeable future. I won't kill her off though. **

**(Maybe)**

* * *

Chapter 4: Where'd You Put The Cookies?

* * *

"Mr. Parker! Late again, I see."

Peter gave his physics teacher a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Ms. Radelle. I promise not to be late next time."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Sliding himself into his seat behind Gwen's, he opened his mouth, ready to shoot back a retort.

_But those are the best ones!_

Slamming his mouth shut at the last moment, he just nodded silently. Peter gave a longing glance at Gwen, before turning his head back towards the teacher.

He attempted to keep half an ear on the teacher before burrowing himself into his thoughts.

Peter wanted to be with Gwen again. He loved her. He had heard all the jokes about young love, but he really felt that he couldn't live without her.

If the Lizard was a one-time thing, if the only people Spider-Man would have to deal with were crime lords and petty thieves… he hated to admit it, but he would've probably broken his promise with Captain Stacy without a second thought.

But even if he didn't make it as a part-time Avenger, (or had refused SHIELD's offer to join them in the first place), he- Spider-man- would probably still have to fight supervillains. That's the way it was when you were a superhero in modern-day New York.

Peter let out a groan, slamming his head on his desk.

"Mr. _Parker!_"

Too late, Peter realized that he was in the middle of class. Sometime during his inner monologue, the teacher's blabbering had faded into background noise. He could hear soft chuckling among his classmates.

"You may think that my teaching requires you to hit your head, but it would really be best for you to listen to my lesson." his teacher gave Peter a sour smile. "There's a quiz next class."

"That's not- I was thinking about something else!" Peter flushed. "I mean…"

His classmates' laughter echoed around the room.

"You won't be able to maintain your good grades if you keep on daydreaming, Mr. Parker," she said. "Now, I would suggest getting out your notebook."

Peter mutely nodded.

The rest of the day didn't go much better. He made sure to pay some attention in the remainder of his classes, but he couldn't help but feel bored. At lunch, he munched on his food in a secluded corner of the school.

It was funny. Peter had spent most of his school life alone, doing his own thing while the rest of his classmates broke off into groups. But once he had gotten the briefest taste of friendship, going back to his former life felt unbearably lonely.

The school bell rang in his final class. He stuffed his notebooks into his backpack, and got up from his desk, his chair scraping behind him.

"Hey!"

Peter, not realizing that someone was calling to him, slung his backpack across his shoulder and headed towards the door.

A hand clenched around his other shoulder.

"Parker!"

Peter brushed off the hand and glared up to the face behind him.

"Piss off, Flash. I'm not in the mood," Peter said coldly.

He had been getting along better with Flash lately. But considering that Flash had beaten him up for years, that didn't mean much. They basically were just classmates now, maybe acquaintances at best. The only reason he would be talking to Peter would be to get help with homework, or to return to his previous hobbies.

Namely, using Peter as his personal punching bag.

"But-"

"Good-bye," Peter said. Pushing his way through the small student traffic jam, he made his way out of the classroom.

* * *

"So, the kid's heading over here today?"

Tony stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a deceptively bored expression on his face. His question was directed towards Clint, who was peering into the refrigerator.

"That's what Coulson said," Clint muttered.

"Seriously, what's with SHIELD? Recruiting a kid for the Avengers?" Tony complained, making his way into the room. "I mean, he's what, twelve? No offense, Mr. SHIELD Agent."

"Don't worry, offense taken, Stark."

"Wasn't he fifteen?" Steve asked, coming up behind him. "I agree that it's a bit young, though. We're not in the war anymore- we don't need to recruit teenagers."

"Could've used some rope-like substance against that caped weirdo," Clint muttered, closing the refrigerator and opening the cupboard instead.

"Hey, stop beating that to death." Tony pointed an accusing finger at Clint. "You could've brought rope. I'm _Iron Man, _not Rope Guy."

"I think that Doom could've easily broken out of any ropes anyways…" Steve pointed out.

"Not. The. Point," Clint insisted, slamming the door to the cupboard shut. "Stark, where'd you put the cookies?"

Steve rubbed his forehead, groaning.

"I think you two will get along just fine with the teenager," Steve said. "You seem to be the same mental age, after all."

"That is offensive, comparing my brain to a kid's! Can't say anything for Clint though." Tony put his hand to his heart exaggeratedly. "That kid probably still thinks that electrons go around the nucleus of an atom in neat little orbits."

Steve blinked in confusion.

"Never mind, found them." Clint waved a box of cookies in the air. "Stark, if you wanted to hide these things from me, don't put them behind the jam."

"I didn't hide them, period. Don't flatter yourself, Barton," Tony shot back. "Why the hell do you want them, anyways?"

"I'm hiding them from the kid. Kids love cookies, right?" Clint jumped on top of the counter to nudge the box of cookies on top of the cupboard.

"You don't even like cookies that much. Why are you hiding them?" Tony demanded. "And you do know that anyone could grab that box?"

"A kid couldn't." Clint grinned.

"Clint, is this all to make fun of Spider-Man?" Steve asked. A vaguely disapproving look framed his face. "I'm sure he has his reasons as to why he's a superhero, and we shouldn't mock him for it."

Tony jumped down on a chair and spun around a couple times. He spread his arms wide, grinning. "I wholly approve of this, Barton. How're you planning to get the kid into the kitchen?"

"Don't worry, I've got this all planned out," Clint said, jumping down from the counter.

The two of them gave Steve a pointed look.

"I don't like having a kid on the team any more than you do. But if we're lucky, by the time the month is up, he'll be off doing his own thing." Steve sighed. "So you don't need to try to chase him off the team, okay?"

"But it'll be downright hilario-"

"- right, right, okay, Steve." Tony flashed a grin. "We'll welcome the kid with open arms. Hold a huge welcoming party and everything. Give him a welcoming present. Hold a welcoming dinner. Do a welcoming-"

"-Right, I get it, Tony," Steve said. "I'm going to… just…"

Steve shook his head, leaving the room.

"... So, should we treat that as a go-ahead?" Clint asked.

* * *

From the window, Peter stared at the sleek black car that had just driven up in front of his house. He tugged on his white collar self-consciously, hoping that he didn't look too childish.

Oh, who was he kidding. Stealing a glance at himself in the mirror, he let out a sigh. Peter would've really preferred to wear jeans and a sweatshirt, but Aunt May had flat out refused to let him go without 'proper attire'. At least he got away with just a crisp white-collared shirt and black dress pants.

Peter brushed his hand against his wrist again, making sure that his web shooters were still properly in place. He had been doing that since he woke up in the morning, nervous for some reason.

He had thought that it had something to do with his weirdo detecting danger power- Peter really needed to think up a good name for that thing- but he didn't get that tingly feeling. It was probably just normal, run-of-the-mill, nervousness.

(The Sixth Sense, maybe? Hm, no, sounded like the name of a bad ghost story.)

And who could blame him? He was meeting the _Avengers_. There wasn't one person in his class- his school- hell, the entire city- that wouldn't want the meet them.

Peter was meeting his father.

As soon as the thought ran through his head, he dismissed it, flushing slightly. He couldn't believe that the thought had even passed through his head.

He supposed he wasn't an orphan for nothing.

The doorbell rang, jolting Peter out of his thoughts. Jumping up from his chair, he pushed the door open and bounded down the stairs.

Halfway down, he stopped, somewhat embarrassedly forcing himself to calm down. It really wouldn't help him seem credible if he was jumping around like a thirteen-year-old fangirl.

"Peter-"

"Yeah, I heard!"

Jumping down the rest of the stairs, he nearly ran straight into his aunt.

"You'll be careful, right?" Aunt May said, worry etched onto her face. "You have your cellphone?"

"I'll be fine, Aunt May." Peter gave her a genuine smile. He grabbed his coat, throwing it on.

"You'll be back by nine, right?" May asked.

"Of course," Peter answered, opening the door.

The SHIELD agent from the other day was standing in the doorway- Corker, maybe? His attempt at a smile was even worse than before.

Giving a final wave to his aunt, Peter followed the agent to the car.

"Just a question…" Peter said, sitting back in the car seat. "Mr. Agent, how long did you have to train to perfect that grimace-smile? Grile. Smace? Well, anyways, that has to take _skill_."

Pricking his ears, he could just barely hear the sound of Coulson's sigh.

"Let's go," Coulson said, nodding at the driver. The driver nodded back, starting up the car.

Taking a closer look at the inside of the car, he frowned.

"Are _all _the windows tinted? Isn't that against traffic laws?"

"SHIELD needs secrecy."

"Isn't that _dangerous?_"

"We have a good driver."

Peter looked at the driver skeptically. "He's wearing sunglasses. You really think that's a good idea?"

Peter watched, with some amusement, as Coulson took out a smartphone and apparently became engrossed with its contents.

"You know, you're not really setting a good example for a fifteen-year-old kid who's going to start driving in a year," Peter said cheerfully. "What if I started wearing sunglasses while driving next year and got into a traffic accident?"

"You would get arrested," Coulson answered in a monotone.

Peter rolled his eyes, starting to get bored with the whole emotionless agent act. Crossing his arms, he leaned against his seat.

"Where're we going, anyways?"

"Stark Tower. I suggest you prepare yourself, Mr. Parker."

His previous cheer dissipated, like it was drenched in cold water. Peter took a small, short breath, trying and failing to destroy his steadily increasing nervousness. He closed his eyes, hoping by the time they reached their destination, he would've calmed down.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Peter pretty much figured that he wasn't going to calm down anytime soon.

(Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Agent)

When they drove up next to a black wall, Peter could see his complexion well enough to tell that it looked vaguely white. It was still hard to tell, though.

"We're here," Coulson said, opening his door. Glancing back at Peter, he raised an eyebrow. "I suggest that you leave the car."

"Uh, yeah, got that." Peter shook the car handle for a few moments.

"Um…" the driver muttered, nodding towards the window.

Peter flushed and unlocked the door. He glared at Coulson from the other side of the car, daring him to laugh. The agent didn't even crack a smile.

He wasn't sure if that made him pissed or relieved.

"I'm the SHIELD liaison for the Avengers team," Coulson said, walking briskly towards the entrance of the Tower. "For the next month, you'll be seeing a lot of me."

"Lovely." Peter said, quickly following. He didn't bother trying to suggest that he might last more than a month. If the agent thought that already, it wasn't like Peter could easily change his mind.

(It wasn't like he expected to last long either.)

The inside of the Tower seemed rather disappointing. He really couldn't see much different from the typical office lobby, with the white scheme and windowed walls. Peter supposed that the only difference was noticeable lack of people going to and fro- or people in general. There wasn't even a secretary.

That was a little strange, now that he thought about it-

"Hello, Agent Coulson. I presume that you are Mr. Parker?"

His eyes flicked around the ceiling in search for the source of the voice.

"Yeah, P-Peter Parker, that's me…" Peter said, cursing his voice for stuttering. Behind a mask, he could out-snark anyone, but apparently without it, the slightest thing could make him stutter. "Are you… talking over a PA system?"

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. PA system, really?

"JARVIS- Just A Very Intelligent System."

Peter looked towards the voice, his eyes slowly widening.

"My personal AI," Tony Stark continued. He leaned against the door he had entered through, a smirk floating on his face. "You're the superhero kid, huh? Agent, you sure he'll be of any use?"

Peter was in a state of complete and utter celebrity shock.

On the bright side, he wasn't nervous anymore.

"SHIELD was quite impressed with his work against the Lizard," Coulson said. "However, I can't make any promises."

"Stark, get off the door before I slam it open," a muffled voice said.

Tony obligingly moved to the side. Moments later, the door flew open, letting Hawkeye burst through. The rest of the Avengers, minus Thor, entered the room more languorously.

Peter was still somewhat shell-shocked. Noticing someone approaching him, he shook his head vigorously, trying to get in a semi-coherent state.

"Steve Rogers." _Captain America _held out his hand to him. "Nice to meet you, Peter."

He was _Spider-Man, _goddammit. The mask didn't change a thing- underneath it all he was still one Peter Parker, nerd extraordinaire. He could do this. He just had to reply.

"Ack."

(Yeah, he had seen that coming.)

Peter felt heat rise to his cheeks. He stared at the hand that was gradually retracted. He didn't dare look up, not wanting to see freaking _Captain America's _expression at being snubbed. Kind of.

After a moment of awkward silence, Tony Stark broke in.

"So, can you do anything other than make weirdo white fluids?"

Peter heard someone coughing, though he couldn't place who. He was still staring at the ground.

"How does it work? Even if the spider DNA correctly merged with your regular human DNA, I can't imagine that you would have magical holes in your wrists that shoot out webs. If anything, it would be located in… um… well, anyways…"

Squinting upwards, he correctly identified the source of the voice as Bruce Banner. Bruce _Banner. _The whole turning green and smashing a bunch of things was cool and all, but more importantly, his work in biochemistry was unparalleled.

Which is why Peter really needed to correct this misunderstanding before it got any worse.

"Um…" Peter coughed once, before speaking up again, louder this time. "Um… I don't organically produce my webbing."

(He could do this.)

"I based the webbing formula on OsCorp's artificial spider webs that they were using to pull large weights. It was too expensive for me to buy on a regular basis- or even more than once- so I tweaked with a few cheaper ingredients to get the webbing I use now. It took a lot of trial and error, but I eventually found that polyamides worked best and were the cheapest."

(He loved science. He really loved science, even after all the crap he was put through because of it.

This was his _element_.)

His voice grew stronger, more confident.

"When it comes in contact with air, the formula automatically hardens and loses its adhesive properties after a few short moments, which is why the webbing isn't always sticky. The formula is shot out of my little web-shooters."

Peter pulled down his sleeve, vaguely gesturing towards the silver wristlet.

"When I press on the button here, the spring activates the spinneret, shooting the formula out of the webbing cartridge at high pressure. I made these things so I could easily switch out an empty cartridge with a full one- since I'm often hanging on a web line hundreds of feet above the ground, I figured it was a necessary precaution."

Finishing his spiel, Peter looked up at the Avengers. Actually being able to talk about his web-shooters had calmed him down somewhat.

The Black Widow and Hawkeye both had uninterested looks on their faces, though the former was managing it better than the latter. Peter wondered if they had taken lessons from Coulson.

Bruce Banner simply looked surprised, and somewhat thoughtful.

Captain America seemed to have a blank, uncomprehending look on his face.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, looked as though he had won the jackpot.

"Agent!" he exclaimed, grinning widely. "You didn't mention that Spider-Man actually knew _science_. Here I was, thinking that he was going to be some snot-nosed brat who couldn't tell the difference between the law of thermodynamics and Occam's Razor, when he's actually some snot-nosed brat who _can _tell the difference between the two!"

"…Thanks?" Peter said hesitantly, not sure if he was just insulted or complimented.

"SHIELD was not aware of any of his knowledge in engineering," Coulson said. Was that a touch of irritation in his voice?

"Seriously? I thought you guys were super-stalkers or something- you knew enough about me the last time we talked," Peter said.

"Ah, yes. SHIELD really should have guessed your skills, considering your hero-worship-"

"I will web you." Peter held up his wrist in what he hoped was a threatening way.

"What's your costume made out of?" Tony asked, walking up a little. "It looks like spandex."

"Yeah." Peter looked to the ground, not yet ready to look at freaking _Tony Stark _in the eye. "That's probably because it _is _spandex."

There was an unusual long moment of silence after his words. Peter peeked up, wondering what had happened.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Right, kid," Tony said, dragging him towards the elevator. "I don't like that a kid's going out and superheroing. But there's no way in hell that I'm letting a kid go out in _spandex _to fight super-powered psychos."

"I second that!" Hawkeye called out. "By the way, kid, want some cookies?"

Peter ignored Hawkeye's strange statement, though he made a mental note of it. He pulled his hand out of Tony's grip, but still followed him.

"I'm going to get JARVIS to take his measurements over on Floor 21," Tony called out.

"I have a minor healing factor- I can recover from a broken bone overnight…" Peter objected weakly.

Tony ignored Peter's statement, choosing instead to usher him into the elevator.

* * *

**And they finally meet.**


	5. Are You Sure This Is Safe?

**PLOT will start pretty soon. Be afraid, be very afraid…**

* * *

Chapter 5: Are You Sure This Is Safe?

* * *

Peter leaned back against his chair, an air of nervousness surrounding him. He was sitting in a SHIELD corridor, a one-sided mirror in front of him. Looking on in, he could see a large, circular room with two people in jumpsuits- presumably SHIELD agents- engaging in a sparring match.

Peter flinched as a piercing scream echoed out into the hallway. He looked up at Hawkeye, giving him an imploring look.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Peter asked, his hand unconsciously brushing up against his opposite hand's web-shooter.

Hawkeye peered into the one-way mirror before letting out a laugh.

"Relax, Spider-Kid," Hawkeye said. "All someone got was a broken ankle. With that low pain tolerance, how'd that guy even get into SHIELD?"

Peter looked back through the window, wincing as the other SHIELD agent defeated his opponent with one deft movement.

"Looks like it's our turn, kid." Hawkeye gave Peter an almost feral grin.

Peter gave him a weak smile in return.

While SHIELD had gotten some idea of his skills from his skirmish with the Lizard, apparently they didn't get enough. So when he had went to Stark Tower earlier today, he had been told that he would have to go to SHIELD for a 'skill assessment'. After a brief game of rock-paper-scissors, Hawkeye had been the one to get roped into helping SHIELD with the 'skill assessment'.

Or, as he had put it- 'boring old babysitting duty'.

"Hey. Kid!" Hawkeye snapped his fingers in front of Peter's face, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Come on, let's go. I'm going to have fun beatin- um, that is, doing this skill assessment."

"Great," Peter muttered, pulling his mask over his face. He was just wearing his normal spandex suit, but it would be easier to move around in than normal clothing.

"Why're you wearing that thing?" Hawkeye asked as they walked into the training room.

"Moral support," Peter replied. "I'm obviously not gonna get any from you."

"You got that right!" Hawkeye grinned. "Oh, and before I forget…"

He rummaged around in a pocket for a moment before producing a crumbly, dusty cookie.

"Want a cookie?"

Peter gave Hawkeye an incredulous look. Unfortunately, it was quite wasted by the fact that he was wearing a mask.

He really needed to start expressing his facial expressions without using his face.

(Wait, what?)

Peter shook his head sharply, trying to empty his mind of his thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the spar.

"Right, I take that as a no." Hawkeye said. He backed up a few steps. "Stark and Banner might be willing to somewhat accept you for the sole fact that you know 'science', but I'm not so easily swayed. But hey, who knows. Maybe if you do decently enough, I'll accept that you're not completely useless."

"Meh- maybe I will do. Decently, that is." Peter said awkwardly, trying to blend in the start of his quip with a normal sentence.

He was trying to get along with everyone. Accusing Hawkeye of being jealous of his awesome science skills was not the way to go.

"We'll start out with a spar- no fancy gadgets," Hawkeye said. Walking over to the edge of the room, he shrugged off the arrow quiver he had been shouldering. "Have you gotten any formal training in combat?"

"… No?"

"Great," Hawkeye muttered, walking back towards Peter. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you, kid. Go on, try to hit me."

Hawkeye easily flowed into a fighting stance. He cocked his eyebrows, smirking a little.

Peter really wished that he had more confidence in himself. But unfortunately, he really doubted that he would succeed in impressing Hawkeye.

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he raced at Hawkeye head-on, hoping to take him off guard with his speed.

Straight on attacks really weren't his forte. In a real fight, he probably wouldn't do something like charging at someone recklessly. But this wasn't a real fight, and if he didn't make the first move, Hawkeye wouldn't.

Peter raised his fist, aiming it towards Hawkeye's stomach. A laugh cut into his concentration as Hawkeye stepped to the side easily, moments before Peter reached him.

Barely aware of his actions, he instantly flipped around, his fist heading upwards. He caught a glimpse of shocked brown eyes before they hardened.

Hawkeye ducked down, his reflexes honed by years of SHIELD training. Peter's fist swished through nothing but air. But even as his fist completed its arc around Hawkeye's head, his foot shot out, barely brushing against Hawkeye's chest and hitting his right arm.

Hawkeye jumped back a few metres, grinning.

"No formal training, huh?"

Breaking himself out of his slight battle haze, Peter let himself smirk. "Does getting bitten by a genetically-altered spider count?"

"Apparently yes," Hawkeye answered. Lifting his arms up in a different battle stance, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you gonna attack me or not?"

* * *

"Any new information to report?"

Coulson tapped the SHIELD agent on the shoulder. He quickly took his headphones off, giving Coulson his full attention.

They were in a bustling SHIELD computer terminal room. The SHIELD agent was one of many ordered to overview Spider-Man's skill assessment.

"Right." he said, typing rapidly as he brought up a video on his computer. "His skills in agility are unparalleled. He seems to have some sort of subconscious fighting skill; he managed to hold his own against Agent Barton, which is more than commendable. The second assessment, with his… web-shooters, was it?... is still ongoing, I'm afraid, so I can't give you any concrete information just yet."

Coulson nodded impassively. "And the other matter?"

"Just a sec."

He brought up a new window before he gestured towards the computer.

"As you can see, not one mouse, monkey, cat, human, whatever, experienced any symptoms from being bitten by OsCorp's genetically modified spider other than some occasional nausea. Well, other than Spider-Man, of course."

"Something doesn't add up," Coulson murmured, leaning in to scan the results. "If I remember correctly, Spider-Man's parents were geneticists?"

"Yes. They stopped working for SHIELD around six years before Spider-Man was born, but they continued their respective work in genetics," the agent answered. "Would you like me to bring up their files?"

"No, that's fine," Coulson said. "What I do want you to do, however, is figure out exactly what Richard and Mary Parker did after they left SHIELD. Get a couple SHIELD psychoanalysts on their files too- see if either of them were the type to do genetic experiments on their child. It could be just coincidence that Spider-Man's DNA happened to react with the genetically modified spider's venom, but we have to be thorough."

"Got it." the agent nodded. "D'ya want me to get some people interviewing people at their former workplaces too?"

"Whatever you think might help. Just be discrete," Coulson replied. "If you can, check for possible signs of child abuse, physical or psychological. Judging from other superheroes, becoming a superhero apparently correlates with parental issues. We need to know that Spider-Man doesn't have any possibly troublesome psychological problems."

"I'll get right to it," the agent said, turning to the computer and starting to type. "I'll be sure to report any important findings."

"Very well." Coulson said. After taking a brief glance of his surroundings, he left the room.

* * *

"Shield brothers! I have returned from my trip to visit the fair Jane!"

"Sir, Thor has returned from New Mexico." JARVIS added in, moments after Thor burst into the twenty-third floor's living room. The remainder of the Avengers (minus Clint), were sitting in the room, waiting for Clint to return from his "babysitting session".

"I _see _that." Tony said, sending a glare up at the ceiling. "Do I need to wipe your servers and reboot your systems? Because you seem to be experiencing some lag, JARVIS."

"I assumed that sir would prefer to be surprised. If not, the probability of one of the other Avengers preferring to be surprised was extremely high."

"Thank you, JARVIS, that was very thoughtful of you," Steve cut in, getting up from the couch. "How was New Mexico, Thor?"

"No, no, no, this isn't over, JARVIS." Tony glared up at the ceiling, despite the fact he knew perfectly well that JARVIS' central servers were on a lower floor. "What's next? Are you going to start to let Fury in whenever he wants, to 'surprise' us?"

"Sir, I assure you that I would not make any decisions detrimental to your wishes. May I also point out that you created me this way?"

"Are you being snarky with me? You are, aren't you? Bruce, my personal AI is mouthing off at me."

"Whatever you say, Tony," Bruce said dismissively.

Thor let out a booming laugh. "I see that things haven't changed!"

"Right… about that…" Tony turned himself around on the couch, facing Thor. "First things first, what did you do with my cellphone?"

"I apologize. It appears to have… broken… again."

"I guess I'll have to make a cellphone that can withstand your strength." Tony frowned, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Obviously, plastic is out. Maybe I can make an alloy of alum…"

"SHIELD assigned a new superhero to the Avengers Initiative," Steve said as Tony started to ramble on about how to make a Thor-proof cellphone. "Spider-Man. Maybe you've read about him? Clint's with him at SHIELD right now, but they should be back soon."

"He's fifteen," Natasha added, not bothering to get out of her chair. Her voice didn't reveal the slightest emotion about this fact.

"That's quite young in your Midgardian years, correct?" Thor asked a somewhat shocked. "I was not aware that Midgard had such young warriors!"

"It was more common in my time, during the war," Steve explained, his eyes taking on a slightly faraway look. "The enlistment age was technically seventeen, but lots of kids lied about their age in order to fight. Everyone did whatever it took to join the war, back then…"

"Peter's a nice kid," Bruce murmured. "Not prejudiced. Knows a lot about genetics. Judging by his fight with the Lizard, he can fight too."

"No objections here." Tony grinned.

"I'm sure the young warrior will be most courageous." Thor said, a wide smile on his face.

"Mr. Barton and Mr. Parker are on their way up." JARVIS said.

"Oh, right, so _now _you tell us that someone's coming up." Tony said. "Make up your mind."

"I have made up my mind," JARVIS replied. "As you very well know, sir."

The door slammed open, jerking everyone's attention towards the source of the sound. Clint and Peter were standing in the doorway. Peter was slouched down, a noticeably red cut slashed across his cheek. A slight scowl decorated his face. Clint, on the other hand, was grinning widely. He seemed to be ignoring the sticky white substance webbed in his hair.

"The kid's pretty fast!" Clint exclaimed. "I still easily beat him though."

"…right. Easily." Peter muttered, staring at the floor.

"What was that?" Clint said in a condescending tone. "Does widdle Peter want to get an arrow to the-"

"-Does widdle Clint want to get a mouth full of web?" Peter cut in, glaring up at Clint.

Letting out a snicker, Clint rubbed Peter's head. He looked up at the rest of the Avengers. "Did you see that? That was fu-freaking hilarious. Parker, I hate to break this to you, but you're too short to pull that off."

"I'm barely five inches shorter than you-"

"- Thor! You're back!" Clint gave him a short wave, his grin widening. "Have fun with Jane?"

"Yes, it was most enjoyable." Thor answered.

Clint snickered. "I'm sure it was. Oh- hey, Parker, say hello! You haven't met Parker yet, have you?"

Peter was forcibly pushed towards Thor. He couldn't even muster up the energy to send a glare towards Clint. He had been doing that for too much during the past few hours.

"Uh, hi," Peter said nervously.

"It is a pleasure to meet one of Midgard's young warriors!" Thor boomed.

"Nice to meet you too, I guess?" Peter said awkwardly. From the cornered rabbit look he had on his face, it seemed as though Thor's considerable stature and volume had intimidated him somewhat.

"Come, you must tell me of your exploits!" Thor declared. "As a young one, you might not have many tales, but you must have at least one!"

"Go on, 'young one'." If Clint's grin got any wider, it would probably touch his ears."Regale Thor with your tales. We already know all about them, so why don't you two go talk in the other room?"

"You can use the holo-display in the next room for help," Bruce said, taking pity on Peter. Tony let out a disappointed groan at his words, but didn't object.

As Peter nervously toddled after Thor, he channeled all the negative emotions that he could into one bloodthirsty glare, aimed at Clint.

Clint just waggled his fingers at Peter.

"Have fun!" he mouthed.

Thor was a great guy. Clint was sure that Peter would warm up to him pretty quickly. But until then, he was going to milk the situation for what it was worth.

As soon as Peter left the room, Clint turned towards Tony.

"You know, I kinda see what you guys like in him," Clint said, a musing tone to his voice. "Sure, he was a little quiet and boring at first, but once I hit him with a few of my arrows, he let loose the little quips like there was no tomorrow. I don't think I've ever been insulted in so many different ways."

"How was he, skill-wise?" Steve asked.

"Oh, fine." Clint waved a hand dismissively. "I don't think he'll have many problems on that front, but he does need to get some formal training. He can't rely on his subconscious and his instincts forever."

"Tell me more about these insults." Tony leaned in from behind the couch. "I could use some inspiration."

"You wish, Stark," Clint retorted. "I might just replace the kid with you, you know. He's got better insults."

"That hurts. Right here." Tony tapped his arc reactor. "Wait, wrong spot."

"He did kind of remind me of To-Stark, though. Just a little less smart."

"A little? I don't care how smart the kid is, he's still lightyears away from my level."

"Also, he has a smaller ego."

"That is a horrible lie."

"Parker is also less of a liar than Stark," Natasha murmured.

"That wounds me too. I think I'm going to die from mental bleeding." Tony leaned back in his seat to stare up at Steve. "You don't think that, do you Cap?"

"Sometimes." Steve smiled lightly at Tony. "But not usually."

"You guys all suck," Tony insisted.

Bruce simply shook his head in a resigned manner at the scene. The sad thing was that the scene seemed nothing but normal to him.

But despite the ridiculousness of his life, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

* * *

"The... preparations... are ready."

"Good."

"If I may, Mr-"

"Don't use my name, Doctor."

"Right. If I may, sir, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Do you really think that you should question your boss? I can fire you in a millisecond and make it very difficult for you to find future work."

"It's just that... these things... they're not really nefarious, are they? I've worked for supervillians before, but I've never run into a plan quite like this."

"I'm well aware of your prior record, Doctor. But you've never worked for a supervillian quite like me. After all- I'm going to succeed."

"That's what they all say."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

**Don't worry, there'll be Tony/Peter family feels soon. That, or awesome SCIENCE bonding. **


	6. Bad Luck Has To Be Cancelled Out Somehow

**Kudos to anyone who figures out who the villains are. And my little cameos, of course. Come on, you guys, you like kudos, right?**

* * *

Chapter 6: All My Bad Luck Has To Be Cancelled Out Somehow, Right?

* * *

"I would like to start the first ever meeting of the first ever Spider-Man fan club!"

"How do you know it's the first ever fan club?" Peter cut in, a disinterested look on his face.

"Come on, it probably is." Flash whined, scribbling 'Spider-Man Fanclub' on the whiteboard in bright red letters.

"I can't believe I'm even here." Peter groaned.

"Look, I really appreciate you coming, Parker- I needed five people to start this club, and I only had three other than me." Flash gestured towards the rest of the room. "And I'm glad everyone else came too. The turn-up is disappointing, but maybe there'll be more in the future!"

A brunette scoffed, putting her smartphone on a desk for a moment. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and a pair of thick glasses were placed on her nose.

"I hate to admit it, but I hope the same thing." she muttered. "Spider-Man's underrated. Sure, he's no Avenger-"

Peter smiled awkwardly. Apparently, even his 'fans' didn't think that he could be an Avenger.

"-but it still takes guts to go around and deal with all that petty crime. I'm telling you, I'm not here because of _you_. In fact, _you _made me almost decide not to join this club."

"Thanks for coming anyways, Carlie." Flash said, setting a fixed smile on his face. "I know that I wasn't a great guy in the past, but I'm trying to change that."

"Trust me, Flash, I'm more surprised that Parker's here." Carlie nodded at Peter. "Gwen probably felt sorry for the jerk, and Kenneth obviously is just here because he's friends with Flash, but you, Parker? Wouldn't have pegged you as a big Spidey fan."

"Yeah, well, you could say that I'm a fan, I guess," Peter said. His ears pricked as he took in the sound of someone softly snorting.

It was probably Gwen.

"I'm only here because Flash said that unless he got this club started up, he would quit the football team." Kenneth corrected. "If he just asked as a friend, there's no way that I would join a _Spider-Man_ club. Captain America all the way, dude!"

"_Anyways_." Flash interrupted. He underlined the 'Spider-Man' he had written on the board twice. "In this club, we can talk about recent Spider-Man exploits, plot ways to meet him, try to figure out how to get him better publicity- the sky's the limit!"

"We're a group of high school students, and half of us don't even want to be here. I don't think we can do much." Peter deadpanned. "Also, I think Spider-Man's publicity is something we can't tackle. People will think what they want to."

"We can try," Flash said stubbornly, slamming his hand on the table. "I think we should start out by hosting a toy drive for poor kids. In the name of Spider-Man."

Peter raised his hand.

"Parker?"

"Uh, yeah. That has nothing to do with Spider-Man," Peter pointed out.

"I'm sure that Spider-Man doesn't even know about or approve of this toy drive," Gwen added sweetly.

"Well, I think that if Spider-Man did know about the toy drive, he would approve of it," Peter objected, turning around to look at Gwen. "It's not like he hates poor kids or anything. Probably."

"Oh! You're talking to me! I thought that you were just going to ignore me for the rest of our lives." Gwen said sarcastically.

Peter winced at her words.

"Right, let's leave personal problems at the door, okay?" Flash said, glancing between Peter and Gwen. "Why don't we get back at to the topic? So Parker! You brought up a good point. But, the point is to get better publicity for Spider-Man- so it doesn't matter if it has nothing to do with Spider-Man!"

"I see your considerable intelligence is rearing its head, Flash," Carlie said. She had resumed texting on her phone, clearly bored with the whole meeting.

"Thanks!" Flash grinned.

"That wasn't a compl- never mind." Carlie sighed. "I see my considerable wit is lost on you."

A cellphone's ringtone suddenly echoed throughout the room. Peter laughed awkwardly, taking out the cellphone from his pocket and glancing at the caller ID.

_Avengers_, it said simply.

"Sorry, I have to take this," Peter apologized. He quickly clicked on talk, heading towards the door.

"Hello?" he said as soon as he was out of hearing range.

"Peter," a voice came out of the cellphone. "It's Tony. Tell me, have you seen any… animals lately?"

"I saw a couple cats and a rabbit on the way to school…" Peter replied, deciding to take the question seriously. "I thought it was a little weird, but I didn't think much of it."

"Well, we just got a couple exploding doves at the Tower a quarter-hour ago. Ten minutes ago, some squirrels and cats exploded in Central Park. Security footages show that there were at least twenty. Five minutes ago, a number of various animals exploded in front of the New York Public Library. There've been no fatalities just yet, but a lot of injuries. The entire police department is up in arms over this. Well, a lot of it at least. And if the pattern continues…"

"What are we gonna do? Collect every stray animal in New York City?" Peter asked quietly. He didn't want to risk anyone overhearing as he rushed down the hallway. "That's obviously not viable, even with the whole NYPD. And even if we did manage to, where would we keep them all?"

"We haven't managed to grab ahold of one of these animals yet. Once we do, I can get working on figuring out how it works- and how to stop them all. But from what I've gleaned from the broken pieces of the bird, it's likely powered by electricity." Tony answered.

"Wow. It's powered by electricity. Like everything else nowadays?" Peter said sarcastically.

"If you were Barton, you would be laughing."

"Well, I'm not Clint, and I have no idea what you're talking about. Anyways, so we need a localized electromagnetic pulse generator. Might blow out someone's WiFi, but that's a small price to pay to get rid of a bomb."

"Way ahead of you, Petey. I was working on a mini EMP generator a few months ago for my suit. I've still got a lot of prototypes left that we can use. As for containment, there's a SHIELD building specifically made to contain small bombs that we can use to keep the animals in one place. The important thing is to find them as quickly as possible and to deactivate them."

"Not everyone has fancy-dancy scanners… -"

"- uh, no. Don't you dare finish that sentence. It's Tony- or Iron Man, if you have to. And I know that you guys don't have scanners, but it's gonna take time to rig up some rudimentary metal scanners- time we don't have. I've outfitted Thor with a pair that I had lying around my workshop- he can fly, so I figured it would be most useful to give 'em to him. I'm going to be heading out in a couple minutes- let yourself into the Tower and grab an EMP generator. I'll leave it with Bruce."

Peter grinned. He had already been referring to Tony as Tony in his own head, but he figured that it would be rude to call him that to his face. He was glad to learn that it wasn't.

"Do we know if the animals are controlled remotely or if they're on a timer?"

"Not yet. Bruce's on it, though, since the Hulk wouldn't be that useful in this situation- probably explode the things instead. And when we get an unexploded animal, we can probably find out more. Gotta go."

A click could be heard from the other side of the line.

Sometime during the conversation, he had left the school. Groaning, he slid his cellphone back into his pocket. He eyed a bird nesting itself in a tree suspiciously.

"You gonna blow up?" he accused loudly. Belatedly, he noticed the guy exiting from a door across from him.

The blond gave Peter an incredulous look before shaking his head and inching his way away across the wall.

"I'm not crazy!" Peter objected, putting what he believed to be a friendly smile on his face.

Judging from the guy's expression, it probably ended up more creepy than friendly.

* * *

"Is this the EMP generator?" Peter asked, picking up a device from the table in Bruce's little workshop. It was about the size of a cellphone, but weighed slightly more. The cover didn't seem to be made out of metal, but it did have a metallic sheen. A blue button graced the edge of the device, no doubtless to activate it.

"Yeah," Bruce said. He glanced up at Peter, a worried look on his face. "Look, Peter-"

"- I fought a freaking giant lizard." Peter slipped the device into one of his pockets. "A few exploding animals is nothing. Just because I'm fifteen doesn't mean I can't fight. Or, in this case, deactivate a few robots."

Peter let out a small sigh. He might consider himself less strong than the other Avengers, but he wished that Bruce could trust him enough with this small task. It was just searching and deactivating stuff.

Then again, it might just be natural aversion to putting a kid in danger. But anyways, he had that special sensing power. He could probably use it to figure out if an animal was going to explode or not.

(That little power might be useful for stopping the explosions too…)

"Doesn't mean that I have to like it," Bruce muttered. "You'll need this too."

He put a small earpiece in Peter's hand. Peter examined it, frowning.

"Bluetooth?"

"Something like that, yes. You better get going. I need to concentrate on this robot thing, anyways."

Bruce nodded at the haphazard pieces of metal scattered across the table. Peter regarded them doubtfully. If Bruce could get any useful information from that pile of scrap metal, he would be extremely shocked.

Peter attached the earpiece and turned it on.

"Hello?" he said hesitantly, pulling his mask back over his face.

"Heya, Spider-Kid." Clint's voice rang straight into his ear, causing Peter to wince slightly."Took you long enough."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry but superheroing isn't my fulltime job," Peter shot back. "Can I use that window, Bruce?"

Bruce waved him away, nodding.

"We still haven't managed to grab ahold of one of the animals yet." This time, it was obviously Captain America talking. "New York is just way too big, and we've only got two flyers. SHIELD is on it too, but there's only so much they can do. They're mostly trying to keep everyone from going into a full-scale panic. Unfortunately, we can't have a complete evacuation, in case the animals are controlled remotely and the culprit explodes them all at once."

Peter opened the window, sliding himself out and on the outside wall. "There's gotta be a pattern to these attacks."

"Exactly!" a computerized voice shot out of the earpiece. Peter assumed it was Tony. "The explosions are targeting famous New York landmarks- except for the Tower. Not places with a lot of population, but landmarks in particular. It's possible that we're dealing with a terrorist here, a terrorist who obviously has some interest in us. But more importantly, if it's landmarks the culprit's after, we can predict where they might be next. I've already divided up most of the likely targeted places, but it'll be a while 'till Birdhead-"

"-that's weak, Stark-"

"- gets to the Met, since he's going by car. The NYPD is already there, but there's only so much they can do. Head over there, would ya?"

"- Iron Man-"

"- oh, if Cap thinks it's alright. I mean, I'm the one doing all the calculations here, and we're practically going in blind otherwise, but hey! If the Capsicle wants to argue-"

"- I'll trust your judgment on this, Iron Man. It's true that we really don't have much to go on other than your calculations. I would've sent Spider-Man near there anyways, considering that most of us aren't close by."

"Now you call me Spider-Man?" Peter asked, wondering why Captain America had suddenly decided to stop calling him Peter.

"It's best to refer to each other with our superhero names when on a mission." a woman answered. Obviously it was the Black Widow, since she was the only female on the team.

Was that sexist?

Peter took a moment to genuinely consider the question, before deciding that if they couldn't be called racist for not having any Asians, they couldn't be called sexist for only having one girl.

He leaped off the wall, letting loose a string of web fluid. It attached itself to a nearby building, allowing Peter to safely swing down.

"So, the Met, right?" Peter asked rhetorically. "Aye aye, Cap'n."

He made his way through the streets, people pointing at him from down below. It took a few minutes more to get to the Met, minutes that could've been spent searching for explosive animals. Logically, he knew that what he was doing was better than randomly searching for boom birds, but emotionally, actively searching and destroying would feel better.

Peter landed himself on the roof just as a trail of smoke made its way into the air some ways away.

"Any of you catch that?" Peter asked, a frown painting his face.

(He didn't expect anyone to say yes, but he could hope, right?)

"No," Clint said grimly.

(Apparently not.)

A chorus of nos followed Clint's statement.

"Judging from the general area, it's probably the Museum of Modern Art. _Dammit all_!" Tony swore. "Thor, where are you right now?"

"I am patrolling the grand Statue of Liberty!" a booming voice came out of the earpiece, leaving Peter's ear ringing. His webs almost missed the next building, but luckily, his spider reflexes kicked in at the last moment, saving him from free-falling.

"Should we stay around the major landmarks?" Clint asked. "The police's assembled around a lot of those too, but…"

"Stay in one place. Test out any animals you find. It's the best chance we've got to catch one of these things," Captain America ordered. "We need to prevent any more injuries- or future fatalities."

Peter could half-hear some soft agreements over the earpiece.

Catching a glimpse of something moving across the rooftop, his hand moved to the side, shooting a string of web. He heard a slight thump, indicating that he had succeeded in hitting the animal. Finally turning his head to see what exactly he had caught, Peter realized that it was a squirrel.

He approached the struggling animal, EMP pulse device in his hand. At the last moment, he hesitated, recalling the Bluetooth-thing in his ear- and the cellphone in his pocket. He slipped the device back into one of his few pockets.

Peter noticed that strangely, the squirrel wasn't making any noise. His eyes narrowed.

He couldn't be that lucky, could he?

(But then again, the universe had to cancel out all of his other bad luck somehow.)

"Come on, please be stupid, please be stupid…" Peter breathed, picking the animal up and ripping the webs of it. Examining the animal with a sharp eye, he finally noticed a small, strange bump on the squirrel's head.

Bingo.

Sometimes, he loved the fact that a lot of supervillians were so stupid.

When he pressed on the bump, the squirrel burst open, revealing its evidently non-organic insides. He very gently put it on the rooftop, examining the insides.

There was no timer. There was nothing even resembling a timer, which left only one other possibility.

It was activated remotely.

Peter felt a grin spread across his face, unbidden. If the bomb had a timer, then it would be nearly impossible to find the original culprit. But a remotely activated bomb, well then, that was a whole different story.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he should probably tell the rest of the Avengers that he had successfully captured a robot-animal. But unfortunately, that little realization was drowned out by the thoughts racing through the forefront of his brain, trying to understand the inner workings of the robot and how to route the signal back to its sender.

Peter was always a loner, after all. His first response wasn't to find someone to help; it was to figure out how to deal with it himself.

(Somehow, during his long, lonely years of elementary, he had accepted the (false) fact that he would always be alone. It was a special type of conditioning that was brought on by his peers, and it was not one that would easily disappear.)

The electromagnetic pulse generator had been thrown to the back of his mind for the moment. Activating the pulse would successfully disable the bomb, but would ruin any chances of a signal getting through to the animal.

Without the signal, there would be no way he could find the culprit.

As Peter got out his cellphone, preparing to connect it to the squirrel, a tingling feeling fiercely assaulted his head. A white tinge crept across his face as the feeling steadily dampened his vaguely good mood.

"My spider sense is tingling," Peter muttered, feeling as though he had to let out a quip.

"Your what?" Tony's voice hit his ear, reminding him of the fact that he was part of a team now.

Damn.

(On the bright side, 'spider sense' sounded pretty good. He could use that from now on.)

"Spider sense. It's this… tingly feeling I get when there's danger afoot," Peter drawled, his hands flashing between his cellphone and the animal. The EMP generator had been placed to the side, close enough so that he could easily hit the button, but not so far as to get in the way.

"There must be one of those animals around you." Captain America said sharply. "If you can't spot it, you should back off. If you get hit by one of those explosions, you could sustain first degree burns, if you don't die."

"Hm, yeah, I spotted it." Peter said nonchalantly.

His cellphone would probably get fried after this, but as long as he figured out exactly where the culprit was and how to stop the explosions, it was worth it.

"What?" This time, it seemed to be Clint's incredulous voice spitting into his ear. "Then use the cancelling device, whatever it's called. Problem solved."

"Not necessarily. If it runs on a timer, then it's perfectly plausible that the bomb part might continue on work- oh." Tony suddenly cut himself off. "Peter. It's controlled remotely, isn't it?"

Peter hesitated, not sure if he should tell the truth or not. As he finished the final preparations on his little makeshift tracer, he decided not to lie.

"Yes." Peter said bluntly.

"Don't do it, Peter! You're not the one in the multi-million dollar suit- you're in a steel alloy and megamesh suit, which granted, is safer than a spandex suit, but is still not good enough."

"I have good reflexes. I'll press the button in time."

"Could someone please explain for the non-scientific minded here!?" Clint practically shouted.

"If it's timer-based, our best chance to stop these explosions is to get a bomb squad to deal with the bomb, then examine the remaining prices." Tony explained. "But if it's activated remotely, well, the fastest way to find the villain would be to trace the signal. Unfortunately, you would have to wait until the last moment to activate the EMP, or the signal would disappear."

"Iron Man- Tony. Were you going to do this?" Captain America demanded.

"Not without checking with you-I mean- that's not the point right now!"

"Too late." Peter said in false cheer. His eyes fixed on the cellphone screen, his hand touching the button that would activate the EMP.

The screen stayed still. That tingly feeling grew, making it a little hard for Peter to concentrate.

Suddenly, an address appeared the screen, showing where it was on the map.

_181 Lispenard Street, New York._

His hand shot out, slapping the EMP generator. As soon as he hit it, he jumped back, just in case he was too late. Peeking out from behind a stone decoration on the roof, Peter let out a sigh of relief.

"181 Lispenard Street," Peter said. "That's where the signal's coming from.

"Did the bomb go off?" Tony demanded.

"No. Obviously." Peter answered, eyeing the robot-thing cautiously. "I'm fine, but more importantly, the villain?"

"Wait for backup, Iron Man," Captain America said sharply. Apparently, he knew Tony well enough to predict his next move. "You don't know what might be waiting."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tony said, seemingly giving in, which was a surprise.

But then again, Peter supposed that him kind of risking his life was bad enough. But it wasn't like he was in that much danger.

Sure, the explosion probably would've inflicted some unhealable scars, but it wouldn't have come to that. He trusted his reflexes.

(Peter chose to forget the fact that he had raced backwards as soon as he had hit the switch, just because he didn't trust his reflexes.)

"...We're going to have a talk when this is over, Spider-Man." Captain America said.

Oh, joy.

A lecture from Captain America. This was going to be great.

* * *

"So, Cap chew you out enough?"

Peter's hand froze on its journey to the elevator's down button. He was back in his regular clothing, a generic backpack slung over his right shoulder. He probably looked just like any other teenager in his school.

Placing a smile on his face, Peter turned around.

"Yup. You going to put me through round two, Mr- Tony?" Peter asked, leaning against the elevator doors.

_You may have the skills, but you need to remember that you're part of a team, _the Captain had said. _If you can't do that- if you can't tell us what you're doing before you actually do it- you're not cut out for the Avengers._

_And I don't want that, Peter. Not from what I've seen thus far._

It wasn't as if he hadn't known that, but teamwork couldn't be built up overnight, right? Wasn't Captain America being a little unreasonable?

"Nah, I'm sure Steve covered all the bases." Tony shrugged. "Heading back to your aunt's, I guess?"

"Yeah. She gets worried if I'm out too late. I've got a curfew." Peter's smile turned somewhat sheepish. "Have to respect it, or she'll make it earlier."

"The woes of a teenage boy," Tony mocked, the light smile on his face showing that he was just joking. "Anyways… look, Peter- I won't try to pretend to understand what's happened in your life, and why-"

"I'm not suicidal. Not one bit." Peter cut him off, scowling.

(Maybe a little self-deprecatory though.)

"I tried to find that signal because I knew I would be fast enough to hit that button in time," Peter continued. "I've had enough practice with my skills to know that much."

"I wasn't gonna claim that you were suicidal. Your skills aren't as trustworthy as computer algorithms, but if you really believed in them- who am I to argue? Actually, scratch that last sentence, I am arguing. Don't do that again. At least, not unless there's less than a ten percent margin of error. Preferably five percent."

"What? I'm shocked! It seems like you actually care."

Tony waved the accusation aside. "Barton likes you, kid. He'd probably descend into a depressive state or something if you died. Bruce enjoys your company too. And Steve, well, he doesn't like the idea of a kid being here- after all, since the war is over, he thinks America doesn't need to recruit kids anymore. But he likes you as a person, all the same. Probably. And, well, all of us wouldn't want to have the death of a fifteen-year old on our conscience."

"Glad to see how morbid you are."

"No problem. Anyhow, Peter, my point is… did I have a point? I think I had a point. Whatever. Anyways, don't die. Or get severely injured. Or do anymore possibly sacrificial things. That's my area of expertise. You're, what, thirteen? Too young to go out on the sacrificial alter, anyways. Leave it to the rest of us."

A tight smile wound up on Peter's face.

"So if another situation like this one cropped up- you would expect me to sit back and relax as someone else took all the risks?"

"Yes. Oh, take that look off your face. You're fifteen-"

"- so you do know my actual age-"

"-Most fifteen-year-olds wouldn't be jumping at the chance to throw themselves into dangerous situations."

"Most fifteen-year-olds aren't superheroes."

"Touché. But like I said before, we don't want to have the death of a fifteen-year-old on our conscience. Even if SHIELD and all of us accept you as an actual Avenger, it would be an unspoken rule- don't let Peter die. We want you to be alive and kicking way after all of us are dead. Hell, you could practically be my kid, you're so young! Just accept that you're gonna be treated as a kid- because you are. Doesn't mean you have to act like one though, of course- in fact, please don't. Emo teenagers are my Kryptonite."

Peter stiffened slightly at what Tony had said unwittingly. He knew that Tony didn't know- there was no way that he could know- but unfortunately, his body still acted on an emotional level.

"Right," Peter muttered. He hesitated before bringing up another subject. "About today, the exploding animals… the guy in that warehouse, he couldn't really be…"

"… the culprit? Yeah, I have to agree with you there." Tony smiled grimly. "He's obviously got a boss. We took care of him way too easily. And since neither this mysterious hypothetical boss or the henchman in the warehouse gave us a reasonable reason as to why they threw a bunch of explosive animals all over New York…well…"

"It was a distraction," Peter muttered.

"Exactly. We've all come to that conclusion, I think. Unfortunately, we don't know what exactly they were trying to distract us from."

"Great. Just, great."

Peter's eyes flicked to the window, noting the steadily dimming light. Tony seemed to notice his momentary distraction.

"You gotta go, right? Go on." Tony waved him away. "Don't let me stop you."

Peter nodded, waving a goodbye before pressing the down button for the elevator.

Maybe he had been wrong about his first assumption about Tony Stark. All that he had seen up to this point, and the conversation just now just seemed to prove his assumption wrong.

Maybe the newspapers had been mistaken.

Sure, the way he had said it had been roundabout and awkward, but it did seem as though Tony had expressed his worry, in his own way.

Maybe Tony Stark wasn't such a dick after all.

* * *

"I must say, Mr- I mean, sir, that was quite the ingenious plan."

"Of course it was, Doctor. It wasn't villainy for the sake of villainy. Everything has a point to it."

"The man you sent to take the rap- will he spill?"

"Probably. But he has no important knowledge- he's unaware of my identity. He's just an idiot who still believes that he'll get paid at the end of all his troubles."

"What do you plan to do with the information you got?"

"That is for me to know, Doctor. I'll tell you if I feel I need your expertise. I have yet to fully examine the files, after all."

"Very well. About my payment-"

"-Oh, stop fidgeting. It's even more annoying when you do it- more of you fidgets than a normal person. Don't worry, I still have need of you yet. I've forwarded the money to your account."

"Thank you very much, Mr. O-"

"_Don't say my name!"_

"Right. Sorry. I'd best be going now."

"You do that, Doctor."

* * *

**I forgot how much I love writing PLOT… **


	7. Pay a Lot More Attention To SHIELD

**So… it's been a couple weeks since the last update… heh heh...**

**Well, c'mon, it's report card time! Lots of tests and projects and stuff.**

**Anyways, Happy Thanksgiving to the American lot, and now let's get to the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 7: Pay a Lot More Attention to What SHIELD's Doing

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Parker."

Peter's head shot up, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was just outside of his school's entranceway, ready to head home and do his homework, goddammit.

(Yup, there was definitely something wrong with him.)

Oh, sure, it could've been a teacher who has called his name, but judging from the monotonic intonation...

Peter's eyes landed on a crispy dressed man standing to the side, next to a building's wall.

" 'Ello, Mr. Agent," Peter said, injecting as much cheerfulness into his voice as he could. He had to combat the boring tone somehow, right? "What brings you to Midtown Science on this fine day?"

"Let's walk," Agent Coulson suggested.

"No explanation, no meaningless small talk, just- 'let's walk'. If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were just here for business!" Peter exclaimed in a mocking tone.

"I would think that you wouldn't want any of your exiting classmates to notice your little rendez-vous with a strange man dressed in a suit," Coulson said.

"Oh, how considerate of you," Peter said sarcastically.

Coulson started to walk away, and Peter had no choice but to follow, albeit reluctantly.

"You know, you could've- I don't know, not met up with me at my school?" Peter pointed out.

"Your aunt is unaware of your... side job... is she not? If I had attempted to meet you at your house, she may have insisted on sitting in during our talk," Coulson answered. "Not helpful at all."

"You could've met up with me at the Tower."

"I'd prefer to talk to you alone first." Coulson gave Peter a cold smile. "If I may, Mr. Parker- it's not a good idea to keep secrets from everyone."

"This, coming from a _secret_ agent? It's your _job_ to keep secrets."

"But you see, you aren't a secret agent," Coulson said calmly. "SHIELD may condone the use of Spider-Man, despite the fact that he's a minor, but that doesn't mean we all like it."

"Oh, god." Peter groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Please tell me that this isn't yet another 'you're too young, we don't like it' talk. You're all gonna end up holding an intervention together if this continues."

"Yes, Agent Barton was most vocal about having you on the team," Coulson said dryly. "He seems to like you now, though."

"That's nice to know," Peter murmured, being genuine for once. "So what do you expect me to do? Announce my identity to the whole world? Go all 'the truth is, I'm Spider-Man'?"

"Not at all," Coulson shook his head, though it "I would just suggest not keeping your extracurricular activities quiet from your guardian forever."

"I told you, Aunt May has had heart problems-" Peter said hotly, before he was briskly cut off.

"- let's sit down," Coulson interrupted, nodding at a small coffee shop off in a side street, away from the bustling crowd.

"My aunt has heart problems. I can't just go and say to her that I'm Spider-Man," Peter hissed, following Coulson into the little shop. A bell rang, indicating their arrival. However, it seemed as though there were no waiters at hand.

(This place had SHIELD written all over it.)

"We are perfectly aware of your aunt's heart problems," Coulson said mildly, sitting himself down in a booth. Peter slowly lowered himself onto the seat across from him. "Better than you, I suspect. But you can't expect to keep your identity secret forever. What do you think will happen if- when- she finds out you're Spider-Man, if you're not the one to gently break it to her?"

Peter opened his mouth to shoot off a retort, then closed it after realizing that he had none.

(Congratulations, Mr. Agent, you made Spider-Man speechless.)

"But I'm not here to discuss your bad decisions in life," Coulson said. "I'm here to see if you know anything about the origin of your superpowers."

(Experiments, done by his father... Richard. Done by Richard.)

"As far as I know, it was that GM spider from OsCorp." Peter lied. "Why?"

"You see, SHIELD's been doing experiments on various animals. And yet none of them have experienced any gain of superpowers," Coulson explained. He smiled, but it had no sense of cheer to it. "You wouldn't have any idea why, would you?"

"Beats me," Peter shrugged, avoiding Coulson's eyes. "Maybe it affects only humans. Or maybe the spider bite activated latent mutations in my genetics. I wouldn't know."

"I see. Well, would you like SHIELD to examine your DNA? To find out exactly what caused your superpowers to manifest, that is."

"No thank you," Peter said quickly. "I don't want some SHIELD weirdos messing around with my DNA."

A frown briefly passed over his face.

Why was he so set on keeping the experimentation secret?

A short moment of thinking produced a satisfactory answer.

Peter didn't want to be treated even more like a kid than he already was. And if everyone knew about Richard's experimentation on him, well, he was sure that everyone would look at him pityingly, treat him like a poor little kid.

He barely even _knew_ Richard! He died when Peter was four!

But he was sure that knowledge of the experimentation would colour the Avengers' opinion of him. And he had just started to really get along with them. Sort of.

Not to mention, SHIELD would probably want to know how he knew that he was experimented on- and then, they might found out about the fact that Tony… was his father. And that was one thing he didn't want anyone finding out.

It was his mother's wish.

Not to mention, every father figure he had ever had died. Peter's luck with keeping people alive seemed to be as crappy as hell. What if he told Tony that he was his kid, and he ended up dying?

(Even putting aside the completely awkward conversation it would be.)

"- I can't promise you much, but I will attempt to keep SHIELD from doing any experiments on your DNA against your will."

Coulson's previous words had been lost to Peter's musings. He hoped that Coulson didn't say anything important.

"Thanks," Peter said, smiling. It was surprising that the agent wasn't forcibly going to test his DNA, given his permission or not. "I'm surprised. I guess you're pretty cool after all."

"Agent Barton said the same thing." Coulson stood up, brushing invisible dust off his pants. "It's funny how first impressions can be deceiving. I wonder what I've missed about you?"

"Nothing, I'm sure."

"Perhaps." The bell attached to the door rang out as Coulson opened the door. "Or perhaps not."

Getting up from the booth, he kicked the table bad-temperedly, a scowl decorating his face. The table rattled a bit, but didn't break. Peter had gotten a slightly better handle on his strength than before.

(Why did people have to act so _cryptic _and _mysterious?_)

* * *

"Bruce!" Tony swung the door to Bruce's labroom open, a grim look on his face. "You might want to see this."

"What?" Bruce asked. He put down a test tube in his hand onto the stand. Glancing at Tony, he frowned.

Tony brought up a holographic screen of what seemed to be a list of some sort. "These are all places that were attacked, robbed, yada yada yada, the other day. Well, that were reported to the police or that SHIELD took note of."

Bruce barely had the chance to skim through the first few locations before Tony quickly scrolled down the list. Stopping after a few short moments, he double tapped on a location.

A file came up, complete with a 3-D model of the building in question and a description.

"SHIELD archives? I thought it was all online?"

"SHIELD's been around a while, since before computers took over the world. They've got plenty of paper records," Tony explained. "Also, who would expect a high-tech organization like SHIELD to keep non-digitalized stuff?"

"So they keep all the old files there?" Bruce clarified. A frown marred his face. "Isn't that a little unsafe?"

"I wasn't able to get much information. There was practically nothing on the SHIELD database," Tony said distastefully, probably not liking the fact that he couldn't get all the pertinent information by himself. "I had to ask Agent, and he was unsurprisingly tight-lipped. But it's true that there are times when a tightly secured building is much safer than an online database. And besides, this is SHIELD we're talking about. I'm sure they keep at the very least two copies of everything."

"Old files, huh..." Bruce muttered. His eyes widened as his head jerked up towards the holographic screen. "Steve."

"Not just Steve," Tony corrected, a bitter tone entering his voice. "Apparently, SHIELD thought it would be a good idea to put all the really classified stuff about the Avengers- and other superheroes- in this SHIELD archive house._ Without_ asking us."

"Don't tell me you're surprised. They're SHIELD."

"Oh, I'm not surprised," Tony said. "I just realized that I'm gonna have to pay a lot more attention to what SHIELD's doing."

"But our files... You think that someone's trying to blackmail us or SHIELD with this information?"

"No." Tony shook his head. "It's possible that whoever this thief is looked at all our files, but the files that were apparently messed with... were all about Steve and the super soldier serum. Turns out that it really didn't matter that our files were there after all."

Bruce paled, the implications of the theft sinking in.

"Someone wants to try to recreate Erskine's formula?" Bruce said haltingly. The sentence was phrased as a question, but both Tony and Bruce already knew the answer.

Tony gave a short nod.

"Dozens of people... maybe even more... have tried to recreate the formula along the years. All ended in failure." Bruce said bitterly. "I would think that people would learn their lesson already, especially after me."

"People do crazy things for power, Bruce." Tony shrugged. "Besides, you know about the whole superhero craze. Everyone wants to be one. And after Captain America came back from the dead and you turned out to be a genuine hero, reservations about experimenting to find the Super Soldier serum probably dissipated."

"Are you saying that this is partially our fault?"

"No way. Come on, don't think that, Bruce. A plan like this must've taken like years to plan out. Or at least several months. Well, maybe a couple months if they were good." Tony shook his head and waved a hand in a shooing motion. "Anyways. Nothing to do with us. Um, other than the fact that the place broken into had our files."

"So you're saying that Peter would have decided to go around in a red and blue spandex suit, beating up street thugs, even if we weren't here?"

"Hey, hey, why are you bringing up the kiddo? We weren't talking about Spidey, we were talking about the thief. But to answer your question, yes, he probably would."

"Really. The vigilante business I might accept, but you really think that he would've decided to wear a spandex suit while doing it?"

"Sure! Who knows, maybe he would've gotten into wrestling or something and made his mask for that! Then he could've designed the rest of his suit based on that. C'mon, doesn't that mask kinda look like a wrestling mask? If you turn your head to the side and squint."

"Whatever you say, Tony. Anyways, does SHIELD have any way to figure out who took the files and where they are?" Bruce had to ask, in the futile hope that the whole matter could be dealt with quickly and easily.

"The culprit didn't take the files- they just took pictures, most likely. SHIELD only knows that someone was in there because they tripped an alarm in one the innermost sections of the building," Tony explained, scowling. "And by the time the guards, distracted by the pretty explosions, came to investigate, the culprit was nearly out of the building. I am going to have_ words_ with Fury about his crap security, and it's gonna involve a lot of fund cutting."

"If they can't properly secure their buildings, why wouldn't they keep it all digitalized?" Bruce agreed. "But you really have to tell Steve about this."

"He already knows. Coulson told him, then Steve told me," Tony explained. "Before that, I had no freaking idea what the possible target of the thief was. All the places attacked were equally mundane and boring."

"I'm sure it wasn't very mundane and boring to the victims, Tony..." Bruce sighed. He sat himself down on a chair behind him and stared up at the ceiling. It had started out a light green, but now had the occasional multicoloured spot. His experiments tended to be relatively tame, but that didn't mean that there weren't a few stain-inducing incidents. "So we should watch out for a new supervillain on the horizon?"

"Nah. I think that we should watch out for another idiot dying in vain." Tony corrected. He stepped back to open the door, giving Bruce a flippant wave. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing, Brucie. Tell me about anything interesting!"

Bruce shook his head, a small smile on his face. He picked up the test tube he had been using, examining the contents.

* * *

"I don't trust him."

"I know you don't, Nat, but can't you give him a chance?" Clint complained. He was crouching precariously on a shelf above Natasha and Coulson. The three of then had met up in Clint's room/floor so that Coulson could catch them up with recent SHIELD news (read: gossip). "I mean, he's risked his life for the superhero gig already."

"It's our job to be suspicious." Natasha shot back, her arms crossed. "Parker _seems_ like a genuinely nice kid. But it's downright creepy sometimes, the way he says things like Stark would and doesn't even i/notice/i. You know, the other day after gushing over some of Banner's science stuff, he said that he would take this over Banner turning into a giant green rage monster anyday."

"Okay, I admit it's a little weird," Clint said. "But Coulson, you said that Peter idolized Stark or whatever, right? Maybe he's just really stalkerish or something."

"A stalker? I doubt it, Barton," Coulson craned his neck up towards Clint. "Parker doesn't seem like the type."

"It's true that he might be," Natasha amended.

Coulson raised one incredulous eyebrow at Natasha.

"But some things he couldn't possibly know." Natasha continued, ignoring Coulson's scepticism. She had less faith in SHIELD's information gathering skills and personality analysis than Coulson. "Like, for example, 'giant green rage monster'."

"He's smart! He could totally figure out what type of things Stark would say, and say them!" Clint argued. He paused, thinking over his words. "Why am I _supporting_ the 'Peter is a stalker' theory?"

"Because you know it's better than the other option," Natasha said calmly. "The possibility that Peter is an enemy."

"Working for _who_?" Clint demanded. "Look, we don't know anything yet. I trust you guys, but there's no concrete proof that Peter's an enemy."

"Coulson, you say that he was definitely lying today about how he got his powers?" Natasha asked.

"It seemed so," Coulson answered. "At this point, however, it would be better to gain Peter's trust than to do DNA tests that may or may not produce results."

"You could ask Banner," Clint interjected reluctantly. "Peter likes him- while he might refuse the weirdo SHIELD agent's request to test his DNA, if Banner asks the same thing, he might accept."

"I'll do that," Coulson said. "But it's possible that his powers have more to do with his parents than Parker himself. For some reason, we haven't been able to find out exactly where the two of them were working after they left SHIELD. Unfortunately, records on small-time biologists aren't very well-kept."

"No surprise there," Clint muttered.

"Just keep an eye on him, both of you." Coulson sighed. "Better safe than sorry, as they say."

* * *

"Mr. Osb- sir. Are you alright?"

"Quite. Better than ever, in fact. Those files were most useful, even if they were woefully incomplete."

"I'm glad to see that."

"I'm sure you are, Doctor. Please, no need to put on airs."

"Did you need me for something?"

"Yes. I heard that you're familiar with a few... supervillains for hire?"

"A couple, yes. I considered making a supervillain team, once, but it ended up too disorganized, especially with no common goal."

"Would any of them be useful for a kidnapping?"

"A kidnapping? Do you need them to be discreet?"

"It's optional."

"Then I'd suggest Mark. He's had a little trouble with finding a job after his... accident. I'm sure he would stage a kidnapping for the right sum."

"Tell him that he would get a five thousand down payment, and an extra fifteen thousand once the job is successfully completed."

"And what is this job?"

"Oh, no, Doctor. I'll get in contact with him directly about the details of the job. I'd rather not deal with a middleman with sensitive information. Must I remind you again who is signing your checks?"

"No need, sir. I wouldn't suggest meeting Mark in person, though. He can get... nervous."

"Then I'll contact him by phone. Surely he can use one."

"Sometimes."

"Good. Get contact information when you talk to him."

"I'll take my leave then."

"I would hope so. I want a response by the end of the day, Octavius."

"... Very well, sir."

* * *

**Transitional chapter, yeah, I know. Anyways, we've passed 100 reviews, peoples. And after only six chapters! You guys are awesome. **


	8. Isn't It Kinda Weird?

**Well, I was going to put this off until Saturday, but I read the reviews and figured that I probably should just upload this today.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Isn't That Kinda Weird?

* * *

"So, you're Doc Ock's current employer, huh?"

"Doc Ock. How quaint. Yes, I am the doctor's employer."

"Heard there's twenty thousand dollars for me if I do this job. Good enough for me. Go on, spill."

"I want you to kidnap someone."

"Yes, I got that part, thanks."

"A teenaged girl named Gwen Stacy. I'll send you a picture so you can properly identify her. You should be able to find her at Midtown Science High School."

"Am I allowed to ask why, or are you one of those crazies who don't want anyone to know?"

"She's just the ends to a means. It really doesn't matter what happens to her, as long as you get the real target; Spider-Man."

"The oh-so-amazing Spider-Man, eh? She the girlfriend of him of him or something?"

"Perhaps. The info I got was slightly out of date, but I know for certain that she at the very least helped Spider-Man foil the Lizard's plan. Not to mention, no superhero would leave an innocent in peril."

"So lemme get this right. You want me to kidnap someone, in order to kidnap a superhero? Kinda roundabout, don't ya think? I mean, how am I supposed to contact this web-slinger, anyways? Go on national television?"

"_No! _I mean, no. I don't want any extra nuisances like the Avengers. Are you saying that you can't find a discreet way to contact Spider-Man? What am I paying you for?"

"You're not paying me just yet. I'm just wondering- if I'm going out of my way to contact Spider-Man anyways, why don't I just attack him in person in the first place? It would be a lot easier."

"Can you do it or not?"

"I can do it, sure, but I want an extra ten thousand. I'm going against a superhero and I have to go to extra trouble for the kidnapping."

"Fine, done."

"So, again, are you downright crazy or are you just really stupid?"

"Just do the job. And may I remind you that if you fail to capture Spider-Man _I'll personally assure your death_."

"Crazy, huh? Don't worry. Superhuman he may be, but any webs he flings at me will be useless. After all, I'm Molten Man. Burning is my calling card."

* * *

"So, I mean, I don't want to butt in or anything, but could you, I don't know, try to make up with Parker? 'Cause I think you two are negatively influencing the first ever Spider-Man fan club's morale."

Gwen clenched her books closer to her breast, scowling. She shot Flash a look. The two of them were heading back to their respective homes after a long day of school. Or rather, Gwen had been trying to get home when Flash had decided that it would be a good idea to talk about 'club morale'.

"Flash, I hate to break this to you, but club morale was nonexistent from the start," Gwen pointed out. "You're the only one who's really a big fan of Spider-Man."

"Not true. Carlie said that she's a Spider-Man fan. And, Parker tries to hide it, but I can tell that he knows a lot about Spider-Man," Flash insisted. He opened the door leading outside. Gwen waited for a few moments for Flash to leave, but after it became apparent that he wasn't leaving without her, Gwen reluctantly exited the building. Flash, at her heels, continued to talk.

"He's such a dweeb anyways- I don't know why he doesn't want people to know he's a Spidey fan."

Gwen opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it almost instantly. There was no need to defend Peter. After all, they had 'nothing to do with each other'.

"Well, who knows what he's thinking." Gwen muttered.

"You can say that again!" Flash let out a loud laugh.

Gwen winced at the sound. The laugh seemed a bit too forced and nervous for her liking.

"Flash, what happened between Peter and I may be none of your business, but I can tell you that we can't just make up," Gwen said firmly. "Besides, it's Peter that you should be talking to if you really want to successfully 'improve club morale'. It's not me that needs convincing."

"Wait, so you want to be friends with Parker again?" Flash asked, stopping underneath the school's archway. A mere few metres away, passer-by walked to and fro. Gwen stopped as well; she didn't really want to, but it would be rude not to.

"Of course not," Gwen said, shaking her head sharply. "Just saying that Peter's more stubborn than me, that's all."

"Right, sure," Flash muttered. His voice was clearly sceptical.

"Goodbye, Flash- woah." Gwen stumbled back. She had been pushed to the side by a heavily covered man.

"Hey, wow, look at that guy. His face is completely covered with that scarf! Isn't that a little weird?"

"It's cold, Flash. There's nothing wrong with wearing a scarf. Though, there is something wrong with not apologizing for knocking someone over." Gwen sighed. "Anyways, goodbye, Flash. See you tomorrow."

Gwen adjusted her backpack slightly before heading out into the crowd of passer-by; this time, without getting knocked aside.

As he waved goodbye, disappointed that his awesome plan to improve club morale had failed, his eyes landed on the weirdo from before. After a short moment of hesitation, he jumped into the crowd to follow him. His eyes strained to keep track of the weirdo with all the bustling passer-by around.

Obviously, Flash did have some doubts about the culpability of the 'weirdo'. The only thing he had done thus far was be rude. But, it wasn't as if Flash had anything better to do. That Biology homework could wait.

Besides, if the man wasn't planning something nefarious, all he would lose would be an hour or two. But, if the weirdo was planning to do some crime, he could become a hero for stopping him! It was a win-win situation both ways.

Of course, Flash didn't consider the possibility of the latter situation becoming dangerous.

* * *

Doctor Otto Octavius suppressed a sneer as he entered Osborn's office. It irked him, to have to be employed under such people like Osborn. Unfortunately, he wasn't blessed with seemingly endless supplies of money like some supervillains he knew. And as he knew that being on the side of angels would pay even worse than his current position, he had no other choice but to work as a morally-questionable-scientist-for-hire.

Octavius vaguely remembered a time when he was perfectly happy with his job as a menial researcher at a small-time company. But that had been back when he was a stupid little doormat, who let everyone just walk all over him.

That was before his greatest achievement, his mechanical arms, had merged with him.

Oh, some people- stupid people, idiotic people- had gone on an all-out crime spree the moment they had gotten superhuman powers. Drunk with the power of supervilliany, they had promptly gotten themselves captured by SHIELD or the Avengers; or now, even Spider-Man. But not Octavius, oh no. He knew better.

He gradually increased his circle of influence, jumping from mob boss to corrupt executive to mob boss. The supervillains that amazingly hadn't gotten themselves put out of commission were made his allies, either by a demonstration of strength/intelligence or by pretending to be their "friend". He couldn't get everyone on his side, of course, but he had been astonished at how most of the run-of-the-mill supervillains were easily swayed to become his ally.

It was amazing how many supervillains were basically just a big pile of self-esteem issues.

But despite his growing influence on the supervillains of New York, he was small fry still, especially without any money. So he continued to offer his services to anyone who caught his eye, hoping that he would be able to use one of them as a permanent source of cash.

Osborn had started out as a potentially good employer. He was smart, yes, which made Osborn arrogant. But he wasn't as smart as Octavius.- so given enough time, Octavius was certain he could've influenced Osborn to see things his way. With the type of money Osborn had, maybe he could've even found a way to get rid of everyday superheroing once and for all.

But no. Octavius let out a sigh as he regarded the fallen form of Osborn in front of him. Papers were haphazardly scattered across the floor around Osborn. Octavius gingerly stepped around a pool of a suspiciously green liquid, not wanting to be affected by a dubious substance.

Octavius dropped a piece of paper on Osborn's head, not really caring if he was dead or alive.

"I'm handing in my resignation," Octavius said, false regret in his voice. "Insanity is fine, really, but I can't have a dead employer, now can I? You were too desperate, trying to overcome that pesky disease. You willingly drank a probably poisonous substance, and if you aren't dead now, you will be."

Osborn let out a shallow groan.

"Oh. Alive, are you?" Octavius nudged Osborn with a foot, a somewhat maniacal smile on his face. "I would finish the job, but I really couldn't care less. I suppose your wimp of a son will inherit your company now, hm? I wonder how long it'll take until OsCorp is bought up by Stark Industries."

Osborn's hand, which was stretched out in front of him, clenched the threads of the lush carpet of his office. But he could do no more than that. He was too weak still.

"Goodbye, _sir_." Octavius' voice was full of sarcasm. "I'm afraid the Master Planner has had enough with you."

Octavius waded his way out of the room, carefully stepping between glass and green goo. He was already scanning a mental list of possible future employers.

Osborn was already out of Octavius' head.

But Octavius was most definitely not out of Osborn's.

* * *

"Here ya go, Agent Coulson."

Coulson silently accepted the file that was offered to him. It was a thick thing, but all the papers were neatly inserted between the two sides of the file. That was typical for a SHIELD file; when the fate of the country could rest on a file, agents couldn't waste time trying to figure out where all the important information was.

"This is all the new information on Richard and Mary Parker?" Coulson confirmed, leafing through the pages.

"Yup," the tech agent nodded. "We've got an extensive description of what they did at SHIELD, and we've really started to narrow down where they were possibly employed after they left."

"Narrowed down?" Coulson echoed. "So you haven't even figured out where exactly they worked."

"Well, I mean, we're talking sixteen years ago here. No Internet means a lot less info left behind," the agent sighed. "None of us have been having a lot of fun digging through scientific papers and magazines published back then."

Coulson, flipping through the file, stopped at a page full of photos. There were the official passport and driver's license photos as well as more casual ones.

"You seem to have many photos of Mary Parker, but only a few of Richard Parker," Coulson noted. The question he implied was obvious.

"Yeah, um..." the agent scratched his head awkwardly. "There are some people in the Biology department who were around when Mary Parker was employed, and well, she is- was- quite the looker..."

"I don't need to know exactly who you got the photos from," Coulson said, impassive as always. "Though, on second thought, I may have to make sure that they aren't currently engaging in any potentially harmful activities."

"Right, just, uh, say the word and I'll get the info," the agent said, fidgeting. One of his friends had supplied those photos, and he didn't want to rat him out. But he wasn't a field agent: far from it. He was just an IT guy who ended up working at a top-secret government organization. And so, unfortunately, he had never learned the mysterious technique of keeping a straight face.

"Perhaps later," Coulson said dismissively. "You seem to have quite a bit of info here."

"Yeah. I hope it's useful, because we all worked hard to get that," the agent said, a twinge of irritation in his voice. A second later, his brain caught up with his mouth, and his tone changed.

"Though, we're still working on it, and if it's not useful, well, we'll just have to try harder, huh?" the agent added on quickly, laughing nervously. "This job would be easier if we knew what we were looking for, you know..."

"I'm afraid it's above your pay grade, agent," Coulson said mildly. He briefly scanned Mary Parker's activities in the month before she left. His eyebrow rose slightly at the provided information.

"It says here that Ms. Parker attended a party hosted by Tony Stark a mere month before her resignation," Coulson commented.

"That's right. If I remember correctly, the boss of the genetics division back then figured that they might have a better chance selling their experimental biological weapon if they sent an attractive female to suggest the idea to Mr. Stark," the agent explained. He gave a short shrug. "The weapon turned out to be a flop, but luckily, Mr. Stark had no interest in it anyhow."

"Mary and Richard Parker both resigned because of Mary's pregnancy, correct?" Coulson murmured. It was a rhetorical question- the answer was right in front of him. "Tell me, when was Peter Parker's birthday?"

The agent tapped on the keyboard in front of him a few short times. "August 10th."

"Nine months after her trip to Stark's party," Coulson noted. "It's also interesting to see that the quality and quantity of work she did after the party lessened greatly. I wonder what SHIELD psychoanalysts would make of that?"

"I don't know. I decided against minoring in psychology at the last moment, so..." the agent trailed off when he realized that wasn't what Coulson had meant. "Right, I'll get them on it."

"No need," Coulson shook his head shortly. "But, I do want you to get some of our geneticists to do a paternity test with Peter Parker and Tony Stark's DNA."

"A _paternity_ test? With Mr. _Stark's_ DNA?" the agent said incredulously. He scratched his head, sighing. "Well, you're the boss. But I thought that we weren't gonna touch Mr. Parker's DNA?"

"We weren't going to experiment with Parker's DNA," Coulson corrected. "This is just a test, based off of an... educated guess. An interesting guess, but unlikely to be correct. But if it is..."

"If it is?"

"Above your pay grade," Coulson replied, his mouth quirking upwards.

* * *

So engrossed with following the strange man, Flash very nearly didn't notice Gwen right in front of the weirdo in the crowd of passerby. He briefly wondered if he would have problems with Gwen stopping him and asking him what he was doing, but that was probably wishful thinking.

Then again, maybe she would stop him in order to tell him that he was a stalker. A twinge of shame and embarrassment shot through him at the thought.

A tall businessman moved in front of him, blocking his view of the hooded man. By the time Flash had successfully pushed his way past the man, the weirdo was nowhere to be found.

Flash sighed and stepped into a sideway, not wanting to have to block someone's way by stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. It had been fun while it lasted, but he'd be better off heading home now. It wasn't as if it had been that important to follow that guy- wait, who was that turning the corner?

Sneaking into creepy alleys? Definitely suspicious.

Racing forwards- he wasn't on the American football team for nothing- he easily reached the corner of the building.

When he peeked out from behind the corner, he could see the man slowly walking down the alleyway, someone in front of him.

That someone glanced back, meeting his eyes for a brief second. Both their eyes widened, Flash's with shock and the other's with horror.

"Stop!" Flash cried, jumping out from behind the wall. "What are you doing with Gwen?"

"Great," the man muttered, his voice muffled by the scarf over his face. He turned around, shoving Gwen to the side with what was probably a pistol. "Complications. I'm not getting paid nearly enough for this."

He lifted up the gun from Gwen and towards Flash. It glinted dimly in the small amount of sunlight that had filtered in between the buildings.

"Piss off, kid," the man said disinterestedly. "I'll give you one chance to leave. You're lucky I don't want to deal with a corpse."

"I barely know him! He's just another member of the Spider-Man fan club, that's all!" Gwen blurted out, panicked. "Just go, Flash!"

"Yeah, yeah, I couldn't care les-" the man groaned.

"- that's right!" Flash cut in, scowling. "I'm a member of the Spider-Man fan club, that's all- and how could I ever face Spider-Man if I let my friend be kidnapped and possibly killed right in front of me!"

"Hm." the man cocked his head to the side, lowering the gun to the ground. Though his voice was still muffled, Flash could hear the interest in his voice. "You know Spider-Man, huh?"

"Flash, you can head home in five minutes- we're near 96th street, just _go_!" Gwen said desperately. She sounded slightly strange, though Flash couldn't place exactly what was wrong.

"Yeah, I know Spider-Man," Flash said determinedly, ignoring what Gwen had said for the moment. He was lying through his teeth- but hopefully, the man wouldn't notice. "And if you take Gwen right now, he'll definitely be on your tail!"

"Perfect," the man said cheerfully. He glanced back at Gwen, whose hands were behind her back. "Oh no, sweetie, just because the gun's not aimed at anyone doesn't mean you can try to escape."

The man wrenched Gwen's left arm towards him, keeping a tight grip on her wrist. The skin around her wrist slowly reddened. Gwen let out a small whimper, all while keeping her death glare trained on the weirdo.

"You really thought the gun was my only weapon?" the weirdo let out a snicker. "That was a weak burn, by the way. Unless you want a full out first degree burn, I suggest that you don't try to 'escape' again."

"What did you do to her?" Flash demanded, his eyes wide.

"Not important right now, kid," the weirdo drawled. "You've got a job to do, if you don't want your… club member to die. Go tell your buddy Spider-Man that I've got one Gwen Stacy in my custody, and if he doesn't get to Yelton's Warehouse pronto, I'll give the custody to a gloomy grey gravestone. Got that? Don't get any smart ideas about telling the police, though- or anyone other than Spider-Man. Your friend's life is forfeit if you do."

"I-"

"What are you waiting for?!" Gwen snapped. Her face may have been paler than normal, but the fierceness behind her words hadn't faded.

Flash clenched his fists. He looked to the ground, not knowing what to do. He couldn't just _leave_ Gwen to her death! Gwen knew just as well as he did that he had no idea how to contact Spider-Man.

But she _was_ telling him to go….

"I can always find another way to contact the web slinger," the weirdo added in helpfully. He lifted up the gun again, aiming it straight at Flash's chest. "So, like she said- what are you waiting for?"

Flash looked up from the ground, a defeated look on his face. There was no way out. He had no choice but to just…

"I think..."

Flash's ears pricked. A voice was coming from above him.

Above him?"

"…he's waiting for me."

Flash looked up, his mouth opening wide. His eyes landed on Spider-Man, giving a little wave from his spot underneath a balcony.

"Heard you were looking for me," Spider-Man drawled. Flash could just imagine him giving them all a smirk. "Why don't you step away from the kids, huh?"

* * *

**The calm before the storm… kinda. I'll do my best to get the chapter up quicker next time, but the muses work when they want to. **


	9. You Owe Me A Cellphone

**Merry Christmas, ev'ryone! For a moment there, I thought I would have to post this on Boxing Day, but I made it. Without further ado, let's get to the chapter!**

**(And before anyone says anything, Happy belated Hanukah/Kwanza/Holiday/whatever you celebrate too.)**

* * *

Chapter 9: You Owe Me A Cellphone

* * *

Peter hung on a string of web underneath a balcony, all decked out in his Spider-Man costume. He looked down at the scene before him, horror in his eyes. Gwen was being taken hostage by a man covered up from head to toe. A gun was pointed at Flash, but that was secondary to the major problem of _Gwen in danger. _

After school had ended, he had been hanging out on the rooftop of one of his favourite buildings. He had been about to jump down from the building to start his daily crime-hunting activities when his cellphone had rang.

When he had picked it up, he had been shocked to discover that Gwen had been the one to call him. He had hesitated for a moment before deciding that if Gwen had called him, it must be important.

Peter had stuck the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he had said nervously.

There had been no answer. Peter had sighed, figuring that it had probably been an accidental call or something. He had been about to hang up when voices came out of the phone.

"-know Spider-Man, huh?"

"Flash, you can head home in five minutes- we're near 96th street, just go!"

"Yeah, I know Spider-Man. And if you take Gwen right now, he'll definitely be on your tail!"

She was near 96th street. Peter hadn't hesitated. That was Gwen's voice coming out of the phone, and she was definitely in trouble. He had jumped off the building and had swung his way to 96th street in triple-time.

Which brought him back to here and now.

"I think he's waiting for me," Peter said, struggling to keep the sheer panic out of his voice. He gave a little nonchalant wave, forcing a smirk onto his face. Maybe if he looked confident, the panic would recede.

"Heard you were looking for me," Peter drawled. He jumped down from the balcony, making one clean flip before landing on the concrete ground. "Why don't you step away from the kids, huh?"

(Why was this happening?)

"Really, I thought the idiot criminals in this city were all dead or in jail, but you prove me wrong." Peter shook his head exaggeratedly. "Kidnapping someone in broad daylight? What, did you forget your copy of Crime: For Dummies at home?"

(He had stayed away. He hadn't wanted to- he _didn't _want to- but he had _stayed away_.)

"Weak, Spider-Man," the man said. He grabbed Gwen, pushing his left forearm up to her neck. With his other hand, he placed his gun to her head. His voice was jeering, but nowhere near the level of other criminals Peter had run into before. Of course, that could just be wishful thinking. "I thought you were supposed to be good at one-liners."

"Hey, it's not my fault you can't recognize genius when you see it." Peter quipped. His eyes flicked from the gun in the man's hand back to Gwen several times. Flash was a nonentity at this point. "Anyways, I think you didn't hear what I said before. Step _away_ from the kids."

(How many times would the Universe screw him over before it had its fill?)

He heard a girly shriek from behind him. He spared a glance behind. Flash was still there, for some ridiculous reason.

"Get away, F- kid," Peter snapped. "Don't worry about your friend, I'll save her. But it'll be a lot harder if I have to worry about you too."

"R-right. Okay."

Peter let out a sigh as Flash's footsteps faded away. At least that was one problem taken care of.

"You're gonna let him go, huh?" Peter raised an eyebrow out of habit. "Good for me, I guess."

"It's better for me if I just have to deal with one hostage." The man shoved his forearm closer to Gwen's neck. "He was never part of the original plan anyways."

(How many times?)

"There's no point in doing this." Peter said, attempting to be reasonable. "All it'll do is ruin you awesome trenchcoat. You really think you can go out in public wearing that after this?"

"Is Spider-Man feeling panicky because his girlfriend is in trouble?" the man said, a mocking tone to his voice. He pushed the gun to Gwen's head. "I'll shoot her if you don't come with me. So I suggest you follow."

(_How many times?_)

"No." Peter's voice was frigid.

"No?" the man let out a laugh, high pitched and maniacal. And yet, Peter felt as though he could feel panic in the laugh. "I don't think that you understand the situation you're in, Spider-Man."

"You don't want to do this," Peter snapped. He was far from calm. But he didn't need to be calm to intimidate.

(He didn't need to be calm to be furious beyond measure. )

"I don't want to do this? Really grasping for straws, aren't you?" The words were spat out quickly, with anger. Perhaps he'd touched a nerve.

The man pressed the gun closer to Gwen's hair. Peter resisted the urge to wince at the sight. He was Spider-Man, and Gwen was in danger. He _needed_ to save her.

(He couldn't let things turn out just like before.)

"Maybe you think I'm some idiot who leaves the safety off the gun-"

"- you are an idiot who kidnaps someone in the middle of the day-"

"-but, really, I'm not."

The man took the gun away from Gwen's head. In a deft movement, he shot a bullet into the brick wall to the right. It burrowed itself in the wall, leaving a small hole where it entered. But just as the man made to aim the gun back at Gwen, the gun was yanked out of his hand.

Peter swung the gun into his hand, looking at it distastefully. He could easily understand the usefulness of a gun, but this one had been pointed at Gwen. Forgive him for not liking it.

(Great, now he was holding grudges against inanimate objects.)

"The advantage goes to me, crazy kidnapper," Peter drawled, not bothering to point the gun at the man as he was still holding Gwen. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough trust in his non-existent shooting skills to try shooting the man while avoiding Gwen. At the same time, he couldn't exactly throw the gun to the ground. What if the man managed to grab it? So, Peter was stuck awkwardly holding the currently useless gun in his left hand.

"The advantage is still to me, web-slinger," the man snapped. With his free hand, he ripped the scarf off his face, throwing it behind him. The hat soon followed, fully revealing his face.

His face was golden and shimmered slightly in the light. His hair was a matching shade of gold that seemed to mould itself into his skin. A smirk decorated his face.

"I think you spent too much time in the tanning salon," Peter said bitingly. "Maybe you should stay there and not kidnap teenage girls. People might get the wrong impression."

"It's my job. I _am _Molten Man, after all." Molten Man's smirk faded from his face, a thin line replacing it. "Now, I suggest you come with me, unless you want your girlfriend incinerated."

Peter's eyes scanned the area. A brick wall to the right, a concrete wall to the right. The floor was similarly concrete. There were probably people in the buildings, but Peter knew that they wouldn't be of any help.

He was stuck.

(And he couldn't let Gwen die.)

"Fine!" Peter said, the words coming out a little too high-pitched and loud for his taste. "Fine."

Molten Man slowly made his way backwards. Peter had no choice but to follow, gritting his teeth all the way. He spared a glance to Gwen. He had been avoiding looking at her up to now, not wanting to see her disappointed expression. She didn't seem hurt, or too scared. She seemed more resigned if anything, which was a relief.

"She isn't my girlfriend, just for your information," Peter spoke up suddenly. "I don't know who got you your info, but it's wrong."

"It really doesn't matter what she is to you, as long as you don't want her dead," Molten Man replied, still keeping a wary eye on Peter.

"You know, I would ask you why you're doing this," Peter said mildly, keeping his anger in check. "But the answer's always gonna be the same. It's either money, or because they like causing pain."

Molten Man sneered. "You superhero types wouldn't understand."

"Enlighten me," Peter drawled. He tapped his finger to his cheek pensively, before shaking his head. "On second thought, don't. I really don't want know how you rationalize kidnapping and death threats."

"Oh, ha ha," Molten Man snapped, a vein pulsing in his forehead. A soft clattering sound registered in the back of Peter's mind. "Just shut up, Spider-Man, I really don't want to hear your snide little commen- ack-"

Peter watched mutely as Molten Man stumbled, heading towards the ground. After all the grandstanding that the villain had done, apparently he had trouble walking backwards. It would have been funny, if Gwen hadn't been stuck-

Gwen.

The spider hadn't given him super reflexes for nothing. The moment his brain took in the fact that Molten Man's arm had separated from Gwen's neck, he shot out his web towards Gwen.

The web attached itself to Gwen's shirt in less than a second, but it seemed like an eon to Peter. Jerking his hand back, Gwen flew into his arms, dragged by the webline.

"You owe me a cellphone," Gwen muttered.

"I'll buy you ten, just run now, please," Peter muttered back, relief almost overwhelming him. He really had no idea what Gwen meant by cellphone, though.

"Don't… just stay safe, Peter," Gwen said, her voice almost inaudible. "I'll get help, something, anything."

Peter couldn't watch as Gwen made her way to safety. He needed to make sure that she made it. He put himself between Gwen and Molten Man, crouching into a fighting stance. Molten Man had just gotten back from his rather embarrassing fall.

Perhaps his powers affected his dexterity?

Peter noticed a small pile of things behind Molten Man, a broken cellphone among them.

(So that was what Gwen meant by owing her a cellphone.)

"Can't even keep your balance, huh?" Peter threw the gun far behind him. He would have to risk Molten Man getting ahold of the gun again. With his hands now free, he shot two lines of web towards each of Molten Man's feet. Jerking his hands up, he took a vindictive pleasure in seeing Molten Man hit the floor again. "But hey, I'm not complaining. I mean, you should see some of these other supervillains. Total assholes. Refuse to get caught by my web!"

Molten Man burst into flames, his clothing burning off him. He got up again, a fierce scowl on his face.

"Enough," he snarled. "I don't need the girl to get you to my employer- and to get my reward."

"So, money's your game, huh?" Peter jumped onto the concrete wall to the left and experimentally shot a line of web at Molten Man.

It burned up completely in approximately two point five seconds.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to get creative." Peter groaned. He dodged a ball of fire that Molten Man had thrown from his hands. "Geezus, he can throw fire too?"

"Feel like surrendering, Spider-Man?" Molten Man demanded, aiming another fireball at Peter.

"Hey, watch where you're throwing that!" Peter jumped up to a balcony, narrowing missing a fireball. "You're destroying people's homes here! I don't think they have insurance for supervillain attacks. Wait, maybe they do. This _is_ New York…"

"Enough with the devil-may-care attitude." Molten Man growled, glaring up at Peter. "You know that your webs are useless against me, and I'm sure you're stupid enough to try punching me. It'd be best for everyone if you surrender."

"Best for you, you mean," Peter shot back. His eyes narrowed, concentrating on finding a solution to his problem. His body moved on autopilot.

The man had called himself Molten Man. Did he mean molten as in melting? That seemed doubtful. Judging from his powers, he probably meant 'molten' as in 'molten lava'.

So, lava. His powers must be based around lava. Lava hardened when it cooled. That meant that Peter needed to find a way to cool him down.

Ideally, he needed ice. But this area was a business area, if he remembered correctly. There wouldn't be any stores selling large amounts of ice that he could borrow.

He would have to go for the second best option.

Water.

Peter could find water anywhere. He needed a fire hydrant, that was all.

Breaking out of his concentration, he raced past Molten Man towards the street.

"Running, are you?" Molten Man snarled. "Some superhero you are."

"You wish, Lava Boy!" Peter burst out from the alleyway onto the sidewalk. Luckily, there weren't many people around- and there was a fire hydrant a mere metre or two away.

"I suggest you guys all piss off," Peter shouted at the passerby, some of which were looking at him interestedly. "There's an angry supervillain coming down the alley."

His words had the intended effect. Everyone scrammed, moments before Molten Man raced out of the alleyway.

Molten Man looked around, obviously searching for Peter. He seemed rather calm- Peter supposed that he knew that superhero would never leave a supervillain on the loose.

"Over here," Peter called out. He had stuck himself on the glass wall of some office building. He jumped at the fire hydrant, ripping the top off and aiming the flow at Molten Man.

He prayed that the water would work. Otherwise, he would be completely strapped for ideas.

A scream echoed out, but Peter ignored it. The man had kidnapped and threaten Gwen. Peter wasn't feeling particularly charitable. He kept the flow steadily aimed at Molten Man until Molten Man stumbled out, grey and smoking.

Peter didn't waste any time. He shot a line of web at Molten Man. He grinned when the web actually stuck to the supervillain.

"You should feel proud," Peter said as he secured Molten Man in the flow of water. Without Peter aiming it, the fire hydrant spurted its water upwards. "You made me gain a newfound hatred of fire-based supervillains. Also, Molten Man? Sucky name."

Molten Man didn't answer. It probably had something to do with the water gushing loudly around him.

Tying one final line of web around a streetlight, Peter stepped back to admire his work. Molten Man may have not been very molten now, but Peter had no idea how long it would last. The water flow would stop him from escaping until he was transported to a secure facility. Peter briefly wondered where the hell all the supervillains went after they were dealt with.

But unfortunately, Molten Man couldn't answer his questions while being hit with a stream of water. Reluctantly, Peter shot a blob of web onto the exposed fire hydrant, stopping the flow. Molten Man sputtered, glaring at Peter.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"I'm hurt," Peter said mockingly. "I thought we were friends! Can't friends just have a nice talk together without asking each other for things?"

"Kill me or piss off," Molten Man snapped, straining against the lines of web. Peter had really gone overboard with them- he couldn't risk them breaking.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Uncle SHIELD will be here sooner or later to take you to a nice new home," Peter drawled. "But in the meanwhile, why don't you tell me why you kidnapped Gw- that kid? And why did you want me to come with you? For that matter, why, for the love of God, did you think that this was a good idea?"

Molten Man didn't say a word, though he thankfully stopped struggling against the web. Enough pressure could probably break it.

"Aw, was that too many questions for poor little Rock Boy?" Peter said, letting out a gusty sigh. "Lemme make this simple for you."

Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Who. Are. You. Working. For?" he said, the words spat out furiously.

"It's Molten Man," Molten Man growled. Saying nothing more, he just hung limply in the web.

Peter scowled. This had been a crappy day all around, and he really had no patience left. He forced himself to push down his anger, however. He needed to keep his calm.

Wouldn't do to lose his reputation as a wise-cracking superhero, right?

"C'mon, itsy bitsy Rockie. If you tell me what I want, I might even give you a lollipop!" Peter grinned. "Don't tell me you don't want to have a lollipop. Especially the cherry ones. Who can resist a cherry lollipop?"

Peter waited a few moments for an answer before giving up.

"Fine then," Peter said, shaking his head. "Have it your way. You can tell everything to SHIELD."

He ripped off the web from the fire hydrant, letting the water spurt out again. Peter had no idea how long it would take for Molten Man to re-fire himself up, but he wasn't taking any chances.

A red and gold blob registered in the corner of his eyes.

Oh, yeah. He really should've contacted the Avengers already.

But in his defense, he didn't have his cellphone. That would be his official excuse. That, and the fact that _Gwen had been kidnapped so forgive him for losing rational thought for a moment there. _

"Spider-Man."

Iron Man- Tony- landed in front of Peter. He looked up at Molten Man, who was being bombarded with water between two streetlights. After taking in the scene for a few seconds, he looked back at Peter.

"I'm assuming you have a reason for sticking that guy in a spout of water?" Tony asked.

"Um, yeah." Peter smiled awkwardly. "It's a long story."

"And you're going to tell me all of it." Tony scanned the supervillain again. "After we get this guy in a SHIELD holding cell. JARVIS, connect me with SHIELD, would you?"

Peter felt as though that statement was less of an order or request and more like a statement of fact. He winced despite himself.

"You have great luck, by the way." The words may have been computerized, but Peter could easily sense the sarcasm in them. "Finding a supervillain on what could possibly be your last day as a part-time Avenger."

"Oh, yeah." Peter resisted the urge to groan. "I had completely forgotten. It's a month today, isn't it?"

"Yup. Agent's at the Tower and everything. Refused to talk until you were there, though- and then this report came in," Tony explained. "For your information, I voted for keeping you on a part-time basis. You should feel grateful."

"I'm not sure if I should feel grateful or just be worried," Peter said snidely.

"SHIELD's gonna pay you for putting your life in danger as a minor," Tony said, his computerized voice somehow conveying its sarcasm yet again. Peter really wanted to know how he did that. "Of course you should feel gratef- Is this SHIELD? Finally. Took you long enough to pick up. Look, we've got a captured supervill-"

"He might burst into flames or lava or whatever if he's not put in water," Peter added in helpfully.

"-and he needs to be put in a vat of water when he gets picked up." Tony paused, waiting for a response. "Yes, a vat of water. Excuse me, who was it that fought the supervillain? … Yes, Spider-Man, but that's not the point. Apparently the supervillain might burst into flames. …Now you're listening. I didn't know the trick to making SHIELD flunkies listen was mentioning things bursting into flames. I'm using that from now on…"

* * *

**So, I know I normally never ask for reviews but... It's Christmas? :)**

**And I promise to get around to review replies soon. **


	10. Find A Silver Lining

**I know, I know, it's been over three weeks. But I have an excuse this time; I didn't like the first draft of the chapter, so I rewrote most of it. Now, read on!**

* * *

Chapter 10: He Could Find A Silver Lining If He Wanted To

* * *

After Molten Man had been taken away by SHIELD in a vat of water- where _did_ they get these things- Peter had been able to retrieve his backpack and cellphone. Tony had headed back to the Tower with a cheerful demeanor. He had told Peter that he should get there pronto, though he had some leeway. After all, Peter had just fought a supervillain all alone.

But despite Tony's flippant words, Peter had figured that it was probably best to get to the Tower as soon as possible. He didn't want to keep anyone waiting.

He had really wanted to know if Gwen had gotten away okay. But suddenly going to her apartment would be weird, and there was no guarantee that she would be there. And since Gwen's cellphone had been destroyed, there was no way that he could contact her from his side. All he could do was wait for when Gwen called him herself.

(_If_ Gwen called him herself.)

Peter had made his way to Stark Tower by public transport, wanting to keep a hand on his cellphone and not wanting to run into another supervillain. He doubted that he would run into two supervillains in one day, but it was certainly possible.

Most of the bus ride had been spent glancing at his cellphone, hoping for a call from Gwen. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had worried about the whole Avengers fiasco. He knew that he would probably get taken off, but he hoped that he would at least be able to visit. He did enjoy hanging out with the Avengers, even though they were older than him. It wasn't as if he had many peers that could talk science with him.

Peter was now standing in front of Stark Tower. He rubbed his head self-consciously, sighed once, then approached the Tower's automatic doors. After a moment of waiting, the doors opened.

"Hello, Mr. Parker," a mechanized voice echoed around the lobby. "I would suggest going to Floor 56. Agent Coulson of SHIELD is waiting for you there."

"Yeah, I heard," Peter said dryly. He briskly walked across the lobby towards the elevators. "Guess he's here to tell me about my impending doom- I mean, unemployment."

The moment he pressed the up button, his cellphone's ringtone rang out from his pocket. He glanced at it, weighing his options. On one hand, a SHIELD agent was waiting for him. On the other hand, it could be Gwen.

Yeah, there was always only one option.

Peter picked up the call.

"Hello?" Peter said hesitantly.

"Peter!" A voice, full of relief and gratitude, flowed out of the cellphone. "Thank goodness you're alright."

"Gwen," Peter said with relief. "You're alright."

"Of course _I_ am," Gwen answered. Peter could imagine her rolling her eyes exasperatedly. "That's my line. You're the one who took care of the supervillain."

"Right," Peter said. He breathed in and out once, calming himself down. He had to say more than one-word answers. "But are you sure that you're alright? Is your wrist alright? Your head isn't hurt or anything, is it?"

(Why don't you hate me?)

"I'm fine. My wrist barely hurts." Gwen said kindly. "I'm calling from a hospital phone right now, but I'm sure I'll just have to wear a cast for a week or two."

"Thanks for calling," Peter murmured, rubbing his hand on his head self-consciously. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. I was worried, and I'm sure you were too," Gwen said firmly. She sighed breathily. "Peter, I don't blame you. I don't blame you for anything."

"But-"

"It's not your fault. And despite all your flaws, I still-" Gwen cut herself off. After a moment of silence, she spoke up again. "It's too public here. Let's meet up tomorrow, okay? My house, at three-ish."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked quietly.

"Peter. Staying away didn't so any good, did it?" Gwen pointed out.

Peter winced, his eyes downcast. He had just wanted to respect Captain Stacy's wish. Apparently he couldn't even do that.

"Just... we can talk more tomorrow, okay?" Gwen said awkwardly. If he concentrated, Peter could hear someone calling Gwen's name from the other side. "I have to go. See you tomorrow."

"Wait-"

A click. Gwen had hung up.

* * *

Peter tried to hold back his smile, but failed. He knew that he should be more careful, that Gwen would only get into more danger if he actively started hanging out with Gwen again, but godammit. He could find a silver lining if he wanted to.

Peter entered the elevator in front of him and pressed a button. The elevator started moving up, and soft elevator music started to trickle out of a hidden speaker somewhere.

Peter groaned. He had a sneaky feeling that the elevator music was either supposed to be ironic or just annoy people.

With a loud ding, the elevator doors opened, and Peter stepped through them into a small, sparsely decorated room. His eyes landed on Mr. Agent- Mr. Coulson- walking towards him

"Hello, Mr. Parker," Coulson said, his voice a monotone as always. "We know who your father is."

Peter took a few moments to process the sentence, then a few more to fully understand it. When Peter heard "father", he still thought "Richard", despite how crappy of a father he had been. However, it probably wasn't Richard Coulson was talking about. But it could b-.

-No.

How many times had he lied straight through his teeth? Countless times. How many times had he horribly failed? Not nearly enough.

He was sick and tired of lying. Lying, lying, lying, day in, day out. To his Aunt, to his classmates, even to Gwen.

Enough.

"I assume you're not talking about Richard Parker?" Peter confirmed, just in case.

"Yes," Coulson replied. "I'm talking about your biological father."

"Right. Him," Peter said simply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes unconsciously searching out patterns in the simple design.

Was he really going to do this?

(Yes. Yes he was.)

"You knew?" Coulson said. For his own amusement, Peter tried to imagine Coulson saying those words in a surprised tone. Unfortunately, he completely failed. His imagination needed to work out more often.

"Yeah, well." Peter shrugged. "My mother wrote a letter before she died. It was supposed to be given to me on my fifteenth birthday. Aunt May gave to me, I went into denial and tried to find more info about Richard at OsCorp, and well, the rest is history."

"Richard?" Coulson echoed. "That's an interesting way to refer to someone that you thought was your father for most of your life. Do you not consider him your father?"

Peter hesitated. Did he want to confess everything? But then again, he was already telling him so much. Might as well go the whole nine yards.

"The closest thing I had to a father was Uncle Ben, and he's dead now," Peter said, somewhat bitterly. "Richard... well, the identity of my biological father wasn't the only thing written in my mother's letter. That spiderbite didn't change my DNA. It just activated what my father had already done."

Coulson's eyes widened a crack.

"Apparently my dad did testing on me, or whatever," Peter said flippantly. "My mom didn't get into explicit detail. Anyways, how'd you find out? DNA test or what?"

"Yes. It was just on a hunch," Coulson said mildly. "No one really expected the results."

"Guess my DNA isn't that corrupted, if you could still do a paternity test with it," Peter muttered under his breath.

"So much for not testing my DNA," Peter said dryly. He looked up at Coulson and cocked his head to the side. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Don't you think that he should know?" Coulson asked, not answering Peter's question.

"I think that I don't want him to know," Peter replied, sidestepping the question as well. Neither of them would get any answers at this rate. "What does it matter if he knows or not? I'm fifteen years old, and I'm sure he's far from good father material. The only thing telling him will do is make things horribly awkward. Really, I just don't care anymore. Tell him, don't, do what you want."

"Perhaps it wouldn't matter one way or another," Coulson conceded. "But you haven't answered my original question. Don't you think that your biological father has a right to know that you're his son?"

"Why are you so interested, anyways?" Peter demanded, scowling. "SHIELD shouldn't care less if- you're not planning to use it for blackmail or something, are you? Because, you know, that really sounds like something you SHIELD agents would do."

"JARVIS," Coulson said suddenly. "Inform the Avengers that Mr. Parker has arrived and that we can now talk about his current status within the Avengers, would you?"

Peter paled. He had completely forgotten about JARVIS and the undoubtedly high-tech security system. He ran the conversation he had just had with Coulson through his head, making sure that no specific names were mentioned.

Coulson must have known from the start that JARVIS was there. It would explain why he was being so roundabout.

How could he have forgotten about JARVIS? He knew that he had been somewhat shocked when Coulson had told him that he knew about Peter's father, but to forget something like that… How much of a moron was he?

No. No, this sort of thinking was why he had so many secrets in the first place. He shouldn't _care_ whether or not JARVIS would tell Tony. He had decided that he had enough with the lies, right?

"They'll be coming into the next room over. I believe it's supposed to be a living room, but it's a bit big for that," Coulson said mildly. From his expression, he obviously didn't care in the slightest about the panicked turmoil that he had just caused. "We'd better be going. You've made them wait long enough. "

"Right," Peter muttered, feeling a momentary flash of irritation. It wasn't his fault that a supervillain had decided to attack him!

Coulson stood by the doorway, waiting for Peter to pass. As Peter went through the doorway, he muttered a few words to Peter.

"JARVIS won't tell Mr. Stark of this conversation unless he specifically asks for it."

Peter scowled when he heard the words, his stride into the room not faltering. Even if that was true, that didn't mean that it was a good idea to bring up this sort of topic in the freaking house of the subject at hand! Okay, fine, so he was partially to blame for being stupid and forgetting about JARVIS, but still.

Peter sat down onto a chair, a sigh escaping his mouth. So much for that silver lining.

* * *

"SHIELD has decided that while you may be a good superhero for your age, you're too young for the Avengers. The team has become pretty public, and the backlash from having a fifteen-year old on the team, should your identity ever been revealed, would be enormous."

"Well, it's nothing that I didn't expect," Peter said, shrugging. He carefully avoided looking at Tony, not wanting to think about the whole situation at the moment.

"You'll still be on SHIELD's payroll." Coulson smiled sourly. "SHIELD doesn't really want a superhero that they don't have some sort of leverage over."

"Too bad, kiddo, but you should leave the superheroing to the adults," Clint said condescendingly from a seat across from Peter. Clint grinned widely, obviously joking.

But even if was joking, Clint probably believed that to some extent. And Peter kinda saw where everyone was coming from. He was fifteen. By all rights and purposes, he shouldn't be doing this; but he was, and that was that.

A paper plane heading towards registered in the corner of his eye. His spider reflexes kicked in, and he snatched it out of the air.

He examined the paper plane, one of his eyebrows rising.

"What's this?" Peter asked, unfolding it. He quickly scanned the first few lines of the paper, before putting it down onto his lap. Reluctantly, he moved his eyes towards Tony. "Internship?"

"If you don't visit, I will be very offended," Tony informed him. He leaned back against the doorway, not playing around with something or other on his cellphone for once. "_Very _offended. I won't take any excuses."

"Oh, I suppose that this has nothing with not wanting me going to OsCorp or something?" Peter picked up the paper again and waved it at Tony, still not meeting his eyes. At the moment, he felt a little awkward around Tony since Coulson had decided the shove his paternity in Peter's face. "You know that my fr- someone I know is an intern at OsCorp, right?"

"Is that 'someone you know' the CEO of OsCorp?"

"I think I remember reading in a magazine that you weren't the CEO of Stark Industries anymore."

"I still hold the majority of the shares."

"Look." Peter put the paper to the side, sighing. "Not that I'm grateful or anything, but I don't want an internship I didn't get with my own strength. So I'll have to decline."

"That's admirable," Captain America commented.

"Um, thanks?" Peter said awkwardly, glancing at the Captain. For some reason, he didn't really feel comfortable around him as the others. It wasn't just him though; Peter got the feeling that the Captain didn't feel alright with having a fifteen-year old on the team. He was probably relieved that Peter was no longer on the team.

"Great, now bond over your shared morals or something." Tony crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Luckily, I'm used to people who refuse things that are good for them. The interviews for the internship are on Monday. All I did was grab that application form; I didn't even put in a good word for you. If you get the internship, it'll be because of your own skills."

"Seriously?" Peter said incredulously. "Well… fine, I'll give it a shot."

"It'll also give you an excuse to visit the Tower," Tony added, grinning.

"I didn't need one for the past month," Peter pointed out. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and he couldn't make Aunt May wait for too long.

"You never know when you might need a convenient excuse, okay," Tony insisted.

"Right," Peter said doubtfully. "Look, I've gotta go. I can't leave Aunt May worry again… it hasn't been that long since…"

"Yeah, it's fine, go then." Tony waved him away.

"Goodbye, Peter," Bruce added in.

* * *

"What, Mr. Agent, you've got another one of my secrets you want to reveal?" Peter demanded suddenly, casting a glance to the agent who walked a step or two behind "'Cause, you know, I think one is good for today. Don't want to give me a heart attack or whatever."

Coulson had left with him, nothing more to do at Stark Tower for the day now that he'd explained everything. The two of them walked through the lobby on the first floor. Coulson remained silent, his face impassive as always.

"Or just keep mum. That's cool too." Peter rolled his eyes. Hunching his shoulders, he stepped through Stark Tower's glass automatic doors. "If you excuse me, I've got a bus to catch."

"You're not... web swinging... home?" Coulson inquired, a trace of curiosity in his voice. The doors closed behind them with a soft click.

"Right, because there are so many places to web swing in a residential area," Peter drawled. "I really do have to go, so goodbye forever, Mr. Agent."

"I'm sure I'll see you again, whether I want to or not," Coulson murmured under his breath, before raising his voice. "Wait."

Peter stopped, letting out a soft sigh. He cocked his head back, regarding Coulson with a disinterested look. "What now?"

"You said that you didn't care one way or another if he found out," Coulson said calmly.

"That doesn't give you free reign to tell him," Peter retorted, scowling. "Not your decision."

"I'll tell you this because you really don't care," Coulson said, taking Peter's statement as a 'yes'. "He'll find out. It's just a matter of time."

"You underestimate my secret-keeping skills," Peter shot back.

"Putting aside the fact that your secret keeping skills are subpar at best..."

Peter bit back a groan. It wasn't his fault that the people who were trying to find out his secrets had secret keeping and finding as their job.

"... One day, SHIELD will want you do something that you don't want to do," Coulson continued. "And we won't hesitate to use leverage. I'm sure you understand what all your secrets are."

"Leverage," Peter said resignedly.

"Correct." Coulson nodded. "If you don't care whether or not he finds out, then SHIELD will end up telling him eventually. So I repeat. It's only a matter of time before he finds out."

"Look," Peter scratched his head once, before looking out at the cars speeding by on the road. He silently listened to the sounds of the city for a few moments before continuing. "It's not just a matter of telling him, no matter how much you seem to want me to tell him."

"I don't want you to do anything one way or another, Mr. Parker." Coulson was quick to reply.

"Sure you don't." Peter rolled his eyes. He dragged his eyes away from the road and to the clear sky. "What do you expect me to say? Oh, hi, Tony. How're you doing? I'm doing good. Have I mentioned that you kinda slept with my mom sixteen years ago? And that apparently there was a little accident called Peter? No? Well, there you go."

Peter was a little blue in the face by the end of the mocking tirade. He didn't dare look back, not wanting to see Coulson's expression. But then again, he probably would be expressionless as always.

Peter heard the automatic doors open behind him. Apparently dear old Mr. Agent had decided to leave- no, wait a second. Why would Coulson go back into the Towe-

"What."

Oh, shoot, that was definitely not Coulson's voice.

Peter turned around slowly, pasting a small smile onto his face.

"Um, hi, Tony. What're you doing here?" Peter said awkwardly, scanning Tony's most definitely shell-shocked face.

Well, damn, things were definitely not looking good for him.

* * *

**I promise to get the next chapter up within the next two weeks. Pinky promise. **

**Thanks for all the reviews last chapter- it was a lovely Christmas gift. **


	11. Why Was He Thinking About This Again?

**I made it, just made it! It's perfectly two weeks since my last update!**

**And do you guys know I love you? 82 reviews last chapter. I think that's more than chapters 1-5 combined. You're awesome. **

**(Excuse me while I go write replies for eighty-two reviews. XD)**

* * *

Chapter 11: Why Was He Even Thinking About This Again?

* * *

"Parker left that application form here," Natasha noted, nodding at the white slip of paper lying on the sofa.

Tony spared a glance at the sofa. He _had_ been going to get back to his workshop to work on one of SI's new tech- Pepper had been on his case about it for long enough that he figured he might as well do it- but he would happily take a detour.

Tony strode over the sofa and swiped the paper in one sweeping motion. "Well, I suppose I'll have to catch him then."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you do that. Don't think I'll help you in your evil plan to take over the world by recruiting all the smart people for Stark Industries."

"If I did that, I'm pretty sure our workload would be halved. Quartered, even," Tony said dryly. He frowned, walking absent-mindedly towards the elevator in the next room.

The workload would probably more than quartered, considering the ratio of magical threats: science experience gone wrong threats that they faced on a regular basis. The Avengers ended up dealing with the mad scientist of the week a lot more often than a crazy magician.

Tony pressed the down button, and waited for the elevator to come up.

Then again, didn't Thor say something about magic being really advanced science? So, would all threats count as crazy science threats? Then again, he had attempted to dissect a weak magical artifact that a villain had before, but he hadn't been able to tell heads from tails. It would probably be best not to categorize magic under science then, since-

The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped in. He stared at the array of buttons blankly for a few moments before pressing on the one labeled with a one. The elevator started swiftly moving down.

Tony went back to his previous problem. If magic and science were considered as two separate entities, then the removal of the threat science-wise would about cut the Avengers' workload by an eighth. But would putting all the 'smart people' in Stark Industries stop supervillains from appearing? It wasn't as if Stark Industries kept that much of a tighter rein on their employees compared to other companies...

Why was he even thinking about this again?

The elevator doors opened, and Tony stepped through. When he spotted Peter through the glass of the automatic doors, he immediately recalled the other problem that he had been pondering over in the back of his head.

Peter hadn't struck him as the forgetful type. Far from it, in fact. So the fact that he had 'forgotten ' the application form- well, it didn't bode well.

Peter hadn't been that thrilled about the application at first, as well… But then again, if he really didn't want to have the internship, wouldn't he take it with him and get rid of it later? That way, no one would notice.

It wasn't as if Peter was dumb, though he was nowhere near his level. Though, to be fair, Peter was only fifteen.

Tony stopped behind a whitewashed pillar, staring despite himself. What was dear old Agent Coulson talking to Peter about? Oh, sure, it could be something completely innocent. Or, something kinda private. But it wasn't as if Peter would've told Coulson about anything that private, and he only respected people's privacy to a certain extent.

Considering his non-existent ninja skills, he was rather proud of himself when he successfully snuck close enough to Coulson and Peter to overhear their conversation.

"…we won't hesitate to use leverage. I'm sure you understand what all your secrets are."

"Leverage."

"Correct. If you don't care whether or not he finds out, then SHIELD will end up telling him eventually. So I repeat. It's only a matter of time before he finds out."

"Look. It's not just a matter of telling him, no matter how much you seem to want me to tell him."

"I don't want you to do anything one way or another, Mr. Parker."

"Sure you don't. What do you expect me to say? Oh, hi, Tony. How're you doing? I'm doing good. Have I mentioned that you kinda slept with my mom sixteen years ago? And that apparently there was a little accident called Peter? No? Well, there you go."

What.

Tony was walking through those glass doors before he even realized what he was doing.

"What," Tony repeated, this time out loud.

Coulson looked at him, unsurprised. Too unsurprised.

Tony made a mental note in the back of his mind that Coulson was a manipulative little ba-

"Oh, uh, hi, Tony," Peter said, his voice too high-pitched to be called cheerful. Tony blankly noticed Peter scanning his face, probably trying to figure out how much he had heard. "What're you doing here? Scratch, scratch that, this is your tower, of course you're here, right? Heh. Uh, yeah. Um. I meant here as in, uh, the lobby. Outside the lobby, technically, I guess. Uh, right. That's it."

Tony's mind was blank.

Not completely blank, of course. He was a _genius_ godammit, he wouldn't completely shut down because of something like this. In the crevasses of his mind, he was still thinking about that new StarkTech Pepper wanted.

But at the forefront of his mind, all he could feel was a blank white mass of shock and disbelief. It wasn't possible, he wanted to say. It couldn't be true, he wanted to shout.

But he didn't.

His mouth remained shut.

Even through the white mass of shock, Tony knew that it was certainly possible that Peter was his kid. It wasn't as if he hasn't slept with a fair share of women sixteen years ago, and it wasn't as if it weren't possible that there had been an... accident. The probability that Peter's mother had been one of the crowd... wasn't that outrageous.

And even if the probabilities had been slimmer, even if he hadn't spent so much time with so many women, the fact that Coulson wasn't objecting gave credence to the theory.

Tony opened his mouth, before closing it again. It felt unbelievably dry all of a sudden. Forcing it open again, he croaked out a few words.

"I think, I think I'll go now."

"Right!" Peter said, his voice full of obvious relief. "Right. Good- goodbye."

Peter sped out of the vicinity faster than Tony would've thought possible. Maybe the spiderbite had given him superspeed as well as his fast reflexes.

Coulson looked at Tony with a blank look. "I'll be taking my leave now as well. I'd suggest talking to your son sometime soon, as I doubt Mr. Parker will approach you himself."

Peter. His son.

Oh, _god_.

* * *

"The mission was executed flawlessly."

"I have no doubt it was." Nick Fury stood behind his desk, his back facing two of them stood alone in Fury's office.

"I have the mission report here," Coulson said calmly. He slid a thin folder of papers onto Fury's desk, skilfully avoiding the other objects on the desk.

"I'll be sure to pass my eyes over it," Fury turned around, glancing at the beige folder. "Now for your debriefing."

Coulson nodded once, curtly. "I approached Mr. Parker about the identity of his father. Surprisingly, Mr. Parker was already aware of his identity."

Fury snorted. "Probably hacked into his mother's computer."

"Upon questioning, he revealed that his mother had left a letter for him, to be opened on his fifteenth birthday," Coulson corrected. "He appeared to have forgotten of JARVIS' surveillance, but after some deliberation, I concluded that there would be a stronger effect on both if Mr. Stark did not find out in an indirect fashion. And so, I reminded Mr. Parker of the surveillance, then proceeded to discuss his position in the Avengers with the rest of the team."

Fury nodded, satisfied with the explanation thus far. "How did Stark find out? Did Parker tell him himself?"

"Indirectly," Coulson said calmly. "I was previously aware of Mr. Stark's plans to give Mr. Parker an internship application form. He had contacted me, wanting to know if there had been anything in the SHIELD contract that Peter had signed that prevented him from interning at another company."

"Considering the hissy fit Stark would've thrown, it was probably best that we didn't put that sort of clause in the contract," Fury commented. "Go on."

"Mr. Parker accepted the application form, as expected. However, I had obtained another copy of said form," Coulson continued calmly. "I placed it on Mr. Parker's seat before leaving with him. Once gone, Agent Romanoff pointed out the application form to Mr. Stark. As expected, he tried to catch Mr. Parker before he left the building and give him the application form."

Coulson paused, taking a small breath.

"I stalled Mr. Parker just outside of Stark Tower. As I eventually spotted Mr. Stark attempting to listen in to our conversation, I tried to get Mr. Parker mention by name who his father was," Coulson explained. "He revealed the secret, in earshot of Mr. Stark, without much prompting on my part. The two of them then quickly parted ways, without discussing the matter."

"They can't ignore it forever," Fury said dismissively. He slid down into his large black chair, a satisfied look on his face. "Good job, Agent Coulson. Stark's more of a loose cannon than Parker; this'll be much better leverage than before."

Coulson didn't answer for the briefest moment. His eyes flicked to the ground for a split second, before returning to look at Fury straight in the eye.

"Thank you, Commander," Coulson said, his voice hard.

"You're dismissed." Fury waved him away, picking up a different folder on his desk with his other hand.

Coulson left the room, the doors sliding open at his approach.

His face may have been calm, but a twinge of guilt tore at his insides.

* * *

Peter raised his hand to knock on the door, before lowering it again. He sighed.

This would've been a lot easier if he had gone to Gwen's apartment along with her after school, but unfortunately, it was Saturday.

He had been standing at the door to Gwen's apartment for five minutes now, trying to work up the courage to ring the doorbell, or at the very least knock on the door.

It was pathetic that he could face down supervillains but quaver in the face of an emotional exchange.

To make things worse, Gwen wasn't the only person he needed to talk to-

Peter firmly shut that thought up in a corner of his mind the moment he thought of it. He had already panicked more than enough last night, and had lost a lot of previous sleep because of it. He didn't need to start worrying himself to death with hypothetical situations again. Maybe if he ignored it, Tony would miraculously forget what happened yesterday.

Peter sighed. For all his grandstanding about how he didn't care whether or not Tony found out, he really did.

(He _really_ did.)

All he wanted was for things to be like before. Where Tony thought that he was an interesting kid, but not _his_ kid. Where they might not be super close, given their age difference and how long they've known each other, but they could still talk.

Sure, if he went back, maybe Tony would pretend it never happened; and Peter would be glad of it. But things wouldn't, couldn't be exactly the way it used to be.

"Great, I went and started thinking about it," Peter muttered, sighing again.

Maybe he should just leave. It didn't seem as if he could work up the courage to press that damn button anytime soon, and him and Gwen wasn't exactly his biggest problem right now.

But, no, he couldn't just do that. That would just make things worse.

Peter looked at the doorbell mournfully, before finally pressing it in one fluid movement. His ears took in the sound of it ringing from inside. Footsteps sounded, before the door opened.

Gwen stood in the doorway, her blond hair not as neat and tidy as usual. She had a tentative smile on her face.

"Peter," Gwen greeted, no hostility in her voice.

"Gwen," Peter said back nervously. He glanced to the ground, not meeting her eyes.

"Well, come in!" Gwen said cheerfully, stepping back from the doorway, letting Peter in. "My mother's, well, working, and my brothers are out wreaking havoc at one of their friends' houses. So it's just you and me."

"Okay. Uh, cool," Peter said lamely. Still nervous, his eyes flicked around the hallway they stood in. Gwen started walking towards a different room, and Peter followed. He wasn't sure where they were going, as he had only been here once.

Once they passed through the doorway, they emerged in the kitchen.

"Want anything?" Gwen asked, gesturing towards the fridge. "We've got juice, tea, milk, and of course water..."

"I'm, I'm fine," Peter replied. From Gwen's exasperated expression, Peter figured that she had caught on to his nervousness.

Gwen sighed, but it just sounded amused more than anything else.

"Guess we should get down to business then?" Gwen said, briskly walking towards another door. "Let's take this to my room."

Once in the room, Gwen pulled out one of the chairs from her desk and plopped herself onto it. Peter awkwardly sat himself down onto the bed.

Gwen laughed suddenly, an act that took Peter by surprise.

"I'd forgotten how awkward you are." Gwen smiled. "I can't believe that I could forget something like that."

Peter laughed self-deprecatingly, his eyes still downcast.

"The spiderbite could only do so much. Social ineptness was one thing it couldn't cure," Peter said. His eyes landed on the white bandages wrapped around Gwen's left hand. "How's your hand?"

"Fine, fine, it'll heal in a couple weeks. That's not why we're here, though." Gwen leaned in, her eyes soft. "I'll get to the point then. I want to be friends again. I like you, Peter. You're kind and nice and you don't deserve the stuff you go through. I'm tired of ignoring you, tired of trying to hate you, tired of finding a scapegoat for my father's death. I just want to talk again."

Peter looked up, meeting Gwen's gaze. It would be rude not to.

"What do you say?" Gwen asked. Her face still was smiling, but her eyes revealed her nervousness.

(Well, that made two of them then.)

Peter took a deep breath before smiling widely back.

(Friends. Better than nothing.)

"I say yes."

* * *

Okay, fine, so he was a little bit annoyed.

Tony's hands flicked a blueprint of a new StarkPhone to the corner of the screen in front of him. He opened up a new file, his eyes scanning the diagram in front of him.

He stuffed his hand straight into the diagram, the holograph shifting and sparking around his hand. There was no resistance, and no point to the act.

Tony sighed, taking his hand out. He leaned back against the comfy chair he was sitting in, his eyes rolling up to take in the ceiling.

Okay, fine, so maybe he was a _little_ more than annoyed.

But on the bright side, he had finished the blueprints for the new StarkPhone, so at least Pepper would be happy.

He got up from his chair, paced for a second or two, then headed towards a different corner of his workshop.

Tony did have a couple improvements he wanted to add to the Iron Man suit before the next supervillain popped up, after all.

Tony flopped down into a different chair in front of a table scattered with tools.

"Dummy, goggles," Tony ordered, putting his hand to the side. A few moments later, the goggles landed in his hand, Dummy rolling up to give them to him. He shoved them onto his eyes, before picking up one of his tools.

But unfortunately, before he could start trying to improve the aerodynamics of the suit, JARVIS spoke up.

"Mr. Rogers has entered the workshop," JARVIS said, his computerized voice echoing throughout the entire workshop. Tony mentally noted that he needed to put the speakers in a better place. The acoustics were horrible. He didn't want echoing.

"Hey, Tony," Steve said, his footsteps steadily growing louder as he approached. He looked at the materials on the table. "Working on upgrades for the suit?"

"Yeah," Tony replied shortly, turning around to look at Steve. "Was there something you wanted, Cap?"

Steve hesitated, his eyes flicking to the side for a brief second.

"Did something happen on Friday?" Steve finally asked.

And here he was thinking that he had hid it pretty well. It wasn't as if he had shut himself into the workshop without sleep or food for two days straight or anything. Tony wasn't suicidal.

(Well. At least not anymore.)

"It's your imagination." Tony rolled his eyes. He turned back around, picking up one of his tools again. "If that's it, Capsicle, I do want to get back to this."

"Is it about Peter?" Steve asked. "This started after you chased after him on Friday."

"Of course not," Tony said naturally. He really wished that Steve would leave already. "Don't know why you would think that."

"Tony-"

Tony grimaced when Steve's hand landed on his shoulder.

"I'm _fine_, Steve." Sighing, Tony placed his tool back down again. "What d'ya want me to say? I may always be messed up, but I'm telling you, there's nothing in particular that's eating at me right now."

"You're not-" Steve cut himself off, probably realizing that yes, Tony was _very_ messed up.

(Probably why Peter didn't want to tell him about his little secret, why he didn't want to admit it.)

"Tony, it's just that... I'm getting that same feeling, the one right after Pepper and you..." Steve hesitated, and with good reason.

He didn't want to think about that.

(It was still too raw.)

"So, what, you're saying that I had another girlfriend and she broke up with me as well?" Tony snarked. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "News flash, Captain, if I did have a new girlfriend, you would've known."

"I didn't mean-"

"-Just accept that sometimes America's Golden Boy can make a mistake and back off." Tony briskly waved him away. "Shoo. I can take care of myself."

Steve let out a sigh, a great big gusty one. Tony could hear him back away, though Tony didn't turn around to watch.

"Just, you know, if you want to talk, I'm here. We all are," Steve said quietly.

Tony didn't answer. He waited until Steve's footsteps faded away before getting back to work.

(He ignored the lump in his throat.)

* * *

**I think I'll be wrapping this particular story up in one or two more chapters. I am, however, planning on a sequel to wrap up the larger plot devices. **

**I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, but no promises. I've got tests and stuff. **

******(and that I really want to get 100% synchronization on that new video game I got- /shot)**


	12. His Life Was His Problem

**Rather than bore you with inane excuses, let's get to the chapter. I know you guys have been waiting for this.**

* * *

Chapter 12: His Life Was His Problem

* * *

Peter crouched on a rooftop of some office building in downtown New York. He looked down at the cars going to and fro underneath him, a genial smile on his face. It was midday rush hour, and the road was quite congested.

It was always enjoyable to just sit up somewhere up high, not thinking about anything; just mindlessly staring at the cars as they attempted to move forwards.

But, Peter hadn't become a superhero in order to crouch on rooftops and stare at cars. Stepping back from the edge of the rooftop, he sighed, the problems that had been niggling at the back of his head returning with a vengeance.

"Hey, Spidey-Boy."

Peter turned around languorously, recognizing the voice.

"Clint," Peter greeted, giving him a brief nod. Clint was simply in his casual clothes, not his superhero uniform. "What are you doing here? _How'd_ you get up here?"

"I took the elevator," Clint shot, a condescending smirk on his face. "And as for why? Why, Petey, I thought you were supposed to be smart. Can't you figure it out for yourself?"

(Unfortunately, yes.)

"No, I really can't," Peter replied, his voice calm and steady.

"So, I talked with Coulson," Clint started. Peter held back a wince. This wasn't going to be good.

"Anyways, he didn't tell me what he had done to get both you and Stark so worked up," Clint confined, visibly annoyed. "So, since Stark refused to elaborate as well, I'm left with you."

"Me? Worked up?" Peter forced a laugh out of his mouth. He felt a little proud at how real it sounded.

(He should've felt ashamed.)

"Yeah. You're not worked up at all," Clint said, a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice. "After all, I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for not going to that internship interview on Monday."

"How'd you find me here, anyways? Did you stalk the nearby buildings until you spotted me or something?" Peter asked, ignoring Clint's question for the moment.

Clint winced. "Peter, that was such a bad attempt to change the subject, it practically gave me hives."

Peter rolled his eyes. He stared at the blue-tinted windows of the adjacent building, inwardly sighing. He gave a cursory glance at his surroundings. A simple concrete-covered rooftop. Nobody in sight but Clint.

Oh, screw it all.

"He's my father," Peter said, his voice deceptively bored.

(What did he have to lose? He doubted that dear old Mr. Agent would keep quiet for too long.)

There was a moment of silence before Clint answered.

"I'm sorry, was that a clever Star Wars joke?" Clint demanded. "Because I'm afraid I didn't get the joke."

"Tony," Peter said, turning around to face Clint. Not that it really mattered, considering the fact that he was still wearing his Spider-Man mask. "He's my father."

This time, Clint spoke up much more quickly.

"Heh. Yeah, well, unfortunately for you I get what you're trying to do," Clint said insistently. "Distracting me with a completely ridiculous statement won't work. How many years d'ya think I've been a SHIELD agent?"

Peter didn't say anything. He just continued to look at Clint silently, waiting to see what he would do.

Clint barked out a laugh, a nervous twinge to it.

"Okay, you had your little joke, so can you just tell me what's really up with you and Stark?" Clint demanded.

"It's not a joke."

"That's." Clint took a deep breath, highly visible. "Well. Um. Please tell me you're having me on here."

"I would, but I'm not," Peter said, a smidge bitterly. He headed towards the edge of the rooftop, preparing to jump off. "Anyways, I'm a little late on my schedule. Petty crime calls. Gotta go."

His words were hurried and rushed by the end of the sentence, really not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the revelation.

(Goddammit, why was he such a coward?)

"Wait! Wait, fu- dammit, just-" Clint cut himself off, letting out a sigh. Peter reluctantly waited for him to finish. "If you really aren't having a joke at my expense- if you're telling the truth- just, c'mon, talk to Stark. Look, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, he's probably one of the last guys you want as a father- but he's kinda a nice guy, at least. On the inside. Really deep down. And hell, I'm the last guy to talk to about what to do with your father- I practically have as many daddy issues as Stark- but just, I don't know, give it a try."

"Give what a try?"

"I don't know," Clint muttered. "But I do know this. I don't wanna have to deal with you avoiding Stark and by proxy Stark Tower for the rest of your life. So deal with it now, and deal with it quickly, and it'll all be good."

"Like ripping off a bandage?" Peter said, a snarky tone to his voice.

"Exactly." Clint flashed a brief grin to Peter. "And hey, this little injury is only bandage-worthy at best right now. As long as you don't need stitches, it'll be perfectly fine if you just rip it out. Trust me, you don't want to rip of stitches."

Peter snorted.

"I'll think about it," Peter said neutrally. He gave a brief nod to Clint, before jumping off the building.

Clint's words circled around his head as he swung through his buildings. And so, unconsciously, before he even realized it, he started to swing his way towards Stark Tower.

* * *

"You say your name is Molten Man. But your real name.." Coulson looked down at the clipboard in his hand. It was all for show. He had already memorized the contents. "Mark Raxton."

Coulson looked up at the man restrained in the water tank in front of him, weighing his reaction. It had unfortunately taken a few days to restrain the so-called Molten Man in a water tank string enough and big enough to be able to interrogate him properly.

A few of the junior agents would have some permanent scarring from their burns.

"You had- have- a horrible gambling problem. You lived with your stepsister for years before getting your superpowers." Coulson commented. "Eventually finished university and managed to get a job as a scientist, but after a lab accident, you gained the power to turn into molten lava. Unfortunately, you couldn't control it, and accidentally burned down your workplace. You were blamed, rightfully, and so you started to run from the law. You continued on gambling however; this time with money gained from petty theft. An unimaginative way to use your skills."

"Shut up! You couldn't understand," Molten Man growled, struggling against the thick metal cuffs surrounding his wrists and ankles.

"Quite frankly, I don't need to understand whatever it is you think I don't," Coulson said bluntly. "I just need to know what you know and how you know it. First question. Were you working alone or did someone hire you?"

"Why should I tell you?" Molten Man snapped. "What do I get?"

"You can't control your powers well, can you?" Coulson said rhetorically. "You're prone to burning up, through your clothing and everything around you, at random intervals."

"What about it?" Molten Man growled. He laughed, a bit manically. "You're saying that you can fix me? Get rid of my powers, or let me control them?"

"Yes," Coulson said simply.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Molten Man snapped. "Last time something altered my body, I ended up becoming living lava."

"I'm sure that you're aware that you're at our mercy," Coulson said mildly.

"Are you threatening me?" Molten Man said incredulously. A thread of nervousness snuck into his voice. "You're government. You can't torture me."

"You must have very thick rose-tinted glasses to think that," Coulson commented. "You're a superpowered supervillain. Quite frankly, we can do what we want. It's a matter of whether or not you cooperate or not; nothing more, nothing less."

Molten Man gritted his teeth. He flexed his arms again, testing the strength of the metal cuffs. They didn't budge an inch. An attempt at using his powers was fruitless. He was almost completely encased in water, his fatal weakness. The water wouldn't even sizzle.

"Fine," Molten Man growled. "Fine! But I don't know much, okay? I was hired to do the job through a mutual acquaintance. The Master Planner, he calls himself."

"The Master Planner?" Coulson echoed. "Tell me about him."

"Then you'll let me go?" Molten Man demanded.

"Then we'll consider it," Coulson responded back flatly.

Molten Man gritted his teeth, and reluctantly continued.

* * *

A teenager sat on a plush chair in a lavishly decorated office, fidgeting. He was alone, though there was an empty seat and desk in front of him, presumably meant for whoever he was waiting for. He ran his hand through his orange hair and glanced towards the door for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes.

As he turned his face back towards the desk, the sound of the door finally opening hit his ears.

"Hello, Harry."

"Mr. Stromm," Harry greeted, putting a natural smile on his face. Mendel Stromm was far from his favourite of his father's business associates, but he knew better than to show his distaste.

"I assume you've heard about what happened to your father," Stromm said, walking to the desk. "Horrible business. You must be very torn up about it."

"Yes. Well." Harry paused for a split second, contemplating his next words. "It wasn't completely unexpected."

Unfortunately, he just really wasn't 'torn up' about his father's critical state. It wasn't as if Norman Osborn had been much of a father to him.

"Yes, yes, that's definitely true. Your father was already sick for quite a while." Stromm nodded. He sat himself down across from Harry. "Now, what should we do with you? You're still a minor, I'm afraid, so you need a guardian, however temporarily."

"The doctors are optimistic. They expect that he'll recover within a few weeks," Harry pointed out. "I don't believe this is necessary."

Harry noted the brief expression of distaste that flew over Stromm's face at the mention of his father's probable recovery. He was surprised that Stromm and his father hadn't tried to kill each other yet, considering how power-hungry they were.

Then again, perhaps Stromm _had_ tried to kill his father.

"Nevertheless, we must be prepared for the worst case scenario," Stronm said smoothly. "I'm sure you're aware that you don't have any close relatives apart from your father. On event of his death, you'd be put into foster care. I'm sure we both don't want that."

Harry's blood froze at Stromm's words. He had known that his father considered him a disappointment, a waste of his time, but had he really decided to throw Harry to social services if he ever died?

"I'm sure that it would be better for both of us if I were to become your guardian when your father dies," Stromn said, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Did he think that he was twelve?

"Look, I don't want to talk about unless my father actually dies," Harry said firmly. His foot nervously tapped the floor, the sounds muffled by the carpet. "Is that all you wanted to talk about, Mr. Stromm?"

"As I'm sure you're aware, Harry, I'm temporarily in charge of the company since your father is... out of commission," Stromm said, undeterred. "Your high school is very high class, private, very expensive- and not much else. There are many, much cheaper schools that would serve you much better. In fact, your father even talked to me about moving you to a more science oriented school; maybe wake up some undiscovered talent in you. I firmly agree."

"I'm not Tony Stark, Mr. Stromm. Putting me in a 'science oriented school' won't change that," Harry muttered, a scowl on his face. In a critical state in the hospital, and his father still managed to (indirectly) insult him. "And I really don't see how this conversation matters right now. Can I go?"

"I'm talking about for next yea-"

"- No matter how much you may _want_ it, Mr. Stromm, I doubt my father is going to die," Harry snapped, his irritation finally spewing out. He took some pleasure in seeing Stromm's shocked, faux offended face. Harry got up from the chair, ready to leave the room. "If you excuse me."

"Harry, I would never wish your father any harm!"

Liar.

"I'm simply worried about your future and the company's finances."

An utterly false statement.

"You understand, right?"

Oh, yes. He understood completely.

"Of course, Mr. Stromm. It's just been hard, with my father... you know." Harry said quietly. "Could we perhaps talk... later?"

"Of course! Of course. I was utterly insensitive. I must apologize," Stromm said, a sycophantic smile on his face.

It made Harry feel sick.

"Thanks." Harry quickly said before fleeing out the door.

* * *

Peter had already _done _this already, with Gwen. He wasn't going to spend ten hours milling around in front of the door to Stark Tower, debating whether or not to go in. He had already made his decision, and he was going to see it through.

Mind made up, Peter walked up to the automatic doors of the Tower with a confidence he didn't feel. He cleared his throat once, briefly wondering what he was going to say to convince JARVIS to let him in.

The doors opened.

Peter blinked once, staring at the entrance. Either JARVIS was still supposed to let him in, or he had decided that it would be better if Peter went in.

If it were the latter, Peter probably should've thanked JARVIS. But he already had one awkward conversation ahead of him; he was in no mood for another. Especially one with an artificial intelligence.

Peter slinked into the lobby, glancing around nervously. Nope, nothing had changed since the last time he had been here. No surprise there.

Arriving at the elevators, Peter realized that he would probably have to talk to JARVIS, or he would have no idea where Tony was. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he spoke up reluctantly.

"Um, JARVIS?"

"Sir is currently in the kitchen of the fifty-first floor." JARVIS' computerized voice was emotionless, but Peter could swear that he heard amusement in it. "Though, I believe that he may return to his workshop soon."

"Right, okay then." Peter took a deep breath. "Thanks, JARVIS."

"It was my pleasure."

Peter entered the elevator and pressed the appropriate buttons. The elevator started moving up swiftly. He fidgeted, rubbing his web-shooters self-consciously. The music that trickled out of the speakers was far from soothing.

With a ding, the doors of the elevator opened to the fifty-first floor. Peter stepped into the threshold, gulping audibly. He had come to this floor before, as it contained the kitchen primarily used by the Avengers. If he remembered correctly- as he was certain that he did- the kitchen would be at the second door of the hallway to his right.

Peter forced himself to calm down and strode into the hallway nonchalantly. His palms still felt sweaty.

After only a few seconds, Peter arrived at the door to the kitchen. Gulping for one last time, he threw the door open.

(He just needed to imagine he was wearing the mask.)

(This would work out.)

Peter's eyes landed on Tony immediately. He was alone in the room, sitting at a small table in the middle of the room doing something with his tablet. Moments after Peter located Tony, Tony looked up.

Their eyes met.

Peter wished that he was better versed in reading people's expressions. Tony's expression, some mixture of a variety of emotions, escaped him. Was Tony mad? Shocked? Horrified? Scared?

"Hey, Tony." Peter gave Tony a sickly smile. "Long time no see."

Tony remained silent for what seemed like the longest time. An astonishing achievement. Finally, he opened his mouth, words spilling out.

"Not really, no. Did you want something, Peter?"

Peter stopped himself from wincing at Tony's detached tone. He was 'wearing his mask.' It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Look." Peter sighed, then scratched his head. His eyes veered towards the floor automatically, avoiding Tony's gaze. "I just, um. I'm not a huge fan of the whole emotional confession stuff, and I'm sure you aren't either. So, uh, can we just, I don't know, forget it happened?"

Peter looked up hopefully at Tony. "I mean, like, it's just…"

"I get it." Tony waved him away. He snorted self-deprecatingly, putting his tablet on the table in front of him. "I get it, okay? You don't have to explain."

Peter pushed away his first instinct, to accept Tony's statement and not inquire further. He knew that wasn't the right reaction. Something was going on here, and he needed to make sure that they were both on the same page.

"I've known you for, um, a little more than a month, okay?" Peter blurted out. "And y'know, before that, I thought that Tony Stark was cool, and awesome, but a total douche. But I mean, sure, I only kinda know you, but I don't think that anymore. You're not a douche. You're a good guy. But still… it's just blood. Just DNA. I never put much stock in the whole touching reunions between long lost relatives that happen all the time in TV shows and books. 'Cause, they barely know each other and stuff."

Peter looked up the ceiling, biting his lip. Taking another breath, he began part two of his tirade.

"So, I'm sure that the last thing you want is for me to start calling you 'Dad', or some crap like that, and it's the same here," Peter continued. "You didn't raise me, and hell, just 'cause the guy I thought was my biological father was a total ass, doesn't mean I'm gonna go looking for a replacement. I really never needed a father anyways. I grew up an orphan, and my unc- my aunt was always enough. So that's why I just didn't care about the whole father thing, just didn't tell you. I didn't want to tell you, because I liked how things were. You're pretty awesome, and I liked actually learning science stuff, instead of just teaching myself. I liked being friends. Kinda friends. Whatever. My point is, can't we… can't we just, like, go back to what it was like before?"

Peter forced himself to meet Tony's eyes. Tony blinked once, twice. Peter couldn't read his expression, though he thought that he saw surprise in there. He waited with baited breath for Tony's response.

Tony let out a snort again, but this time it was one of amusement. He smirked, a flash of white teeth showing.

"Why, Petey, I thought you didn't like the whole emotional confession thing!" Tony exclaimed, getting up from his chair. The chair scraped the floor as it was pushed back. Tony walked up to Peter and shook his head. "You're a bald-faced liar. I'm offended."

Peter scowled. "Shut up."

Tony laughed cheerfully. "Well, young grasshopper, you can have the honor of being my apprentice."

"Uh, no. I'm fine. Plenty smart already," Peter insisted. His eyes narrowed. "You just want a minion, don't you?"

"Why, Peter, I can't believe you would think so low of me." Tony let out a loud, gusty sigh. "It's not like you didn't admit that I was smarter than you in your little tirade."

"I'm not egocentric enough to think that I'm smarter than _the _Tony Stark," Peter said simply, rolling his eyes. "Still doesn't mean I wanna be your minion."

"So, I know that you use polyamides for your webbing, but don't you think that adding pyrrolidine might help keep it dissolving for a bit longer?" Tony said suddenly.

"Pyrolidine? I hadn't considered it before, but I guess… if the polyamides could corre-" Peter cut himself off, glaring at Tony. "I know what you're doing."

Tony had an innocent expression on his face. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about. But I do happen to have some pyrrolidine."

"I know what you're doing," Peter repeated. "But, it's working. Where's this mysterious pyrrolidine?"

Tony laughed. "Follow me."

Sure, things would still be awkward. Peter knew that. But hey, better awkward now than awkward later. He was sure that things would smooth themselves out sometime.

Sometimes, when he took a step back and examined his life, he just shook his head in amazement. Him, Peter Parker, that geek loner, a superhero. Talking with Tony Stark on a regular basis.

It was true that while his life was awesome sometimes, his life sucked just as much at the same time. But for moments like these; talking _science _with Tony Stark; he was willing to deal with the sucky parts of life.

He knew that Aunt May might not be happy with his superhero lifestyle. He knew that his mother might raise an eyebrow at him interacting with Tony Stark.

He didn't care.

His life was his problem.

And that was an undeniable fact.

* * *

_**IMPORTANT**_

**This is the last chapter of this story, but I plan to write a sequel. **

**I want to have the vague outline of the story and a few chapters written out before I post the story, so I'll post it in, let's say a month.**

**I'd like to have the whole story done before posting it, but knowing me, you guys would be waiting for two years for me to stop procrastinating. So. A month it is. **

**I'd like to take a moment to thank each and every one of my readers, even those who didn't review. Don't worry, I'm still gonna respond to all your reviews, so don't panic. :p **

**But even if you didn't leave a comment, just knowing that you passed your eyes over my story, liked it, left a hit, makes me happy. **

**So. Thank you all. And see you soon. **

**EDIT: Yes, I'll post a notification chapter when I post the sequel, so just keep on following this story and you'll be fine. **


	13. Sequel is Up!

**Hey, the sequel's up. It's called 'It's Our Problem', and it should be up on my profile. **

**I would post a link, but you guys all know how feels about links. **


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